


When The Sun Sets Again

by hervileromance



Category: Red Dead Redemption, Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Arthur being a soft cowboy, Dutch being an absolute big daddy, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Micah is an ass, Multi, Slow Burn, Threesome - F/M/M, brown reader, eventually, im rewriting this whole damn story, you're sandwiched between the two hehe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-08-22 16:02:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16601120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hervileromance/pseuds/hervileromance
Summary: On the run for a new life, a new beginning, you meet Dutch Van Der Linde in the middle of a gun showdown. Your courage peaks his interest and he takes you in as the new gang member. You were blessed with a second chance at life, but for how long will this blessing last?(Smut in later chapters, slow burn)





	1. A Second Chance

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work on ao3! It's been suggested by many people that I should start posting here, so I'm kinda beginning to get a hang of this website. Hope you enjoy my fic!

You’ve been running for years. Running from fear, running from…god knows what. All you remember was running. You remember a family, you used to live with one. Orphaned at birth, this family took you in. But treated you like a slave. You did everything for them, down to even cleaning their latrine. That’s all you knew at life.

But you were anything but a fool, by the blessing of a few kind souls who taught you how to read and write, you became educated. Often stealing books from the neighbours houses. But you were caught eventually, and it led to beatings at 5 years of age. You stopped stealing, but you never stopped reading and writing. And soon, what used to be periodic beatings had become daily and nightly beatings.

By the age of 15, you ran. You ran away as fast as you could from that house. You had no direction, no place to go. But that didn’t matter, the world was a large place. From what you had heard from the towns people, travelling North was your best bet for safety.

And so, you drifted, for years, from town to town, hustling money from people. You had learned pretty quickly that more than half the people in this world were complete morons. You had also learned that being a woman, especially a learned woman was quite an advantage. People often underestimated your prowess, until their pockets were empty of their life earnings.

Over the years, you had built up quite a name for yourself. You never had a name, it was always ‘hey’, ‘you’, ‘darkie’. But the world had named you ‘Drift Thief Daisy’. You wore that name like a badge of honor, a name that you had earned from your skilled intellect.

Now, at 20, you had enough money to take a train ticket straight to Boston. There was only one last town left to hustle.

Valentine.

 

* * *

Valentine was a run down shack-of-the-mill kind of town. But, you’ve seen worse.

You stopped your horse in front of the large two-story saloon. Both men and women had started to drunkenly stumble in and out of the wooden doors. It was late noon.

Getting of your horse, you straightened your dress and fixed your corset. You placed your hands on the wooden doors of the saloon, and pushed in.

Everyone stopped and stared. You were used to it.

As you strolled towards the bartender, every single man had their gaze on you like you were some rare gem. You could sense their lust as you turned your back to them.

“Mr barkeep!” you sweetly hollered towards the bartender as you sat on one of the high stools.

The bartender was a grumpled mess, and seemed to be more annoyed than perplexed at your presence.

“Could I have a glass of whisky, please?” you gave him a soft smile.

The bartender quietly filled a rather foggy glass with whisky and practically threw the damn thing across the counter.

You silently took one sip from it, your eyes occasionally glancing around the bar.

It didn’t take long for some poor lust-driven fool to take a seat next to you. A young woman travelling alone in a strange town was a gold mine for these folks. And you planned to take full advantage of it.

“A whiskey here too.” the man mentioned to the bartender.

You silently drank your whiskey until the man chippered next to you.

“What’s a lonesome young woman like yourself doing out ‘ere?”

You set your glass down, “Just makin’ my way through, mister. Just like anybody else.”

He hummed into his glass, “If you ask me, that oughta get you into some trouble, miss.”

You turned to the man next to you, he seemed to be quite the looker. A lot more handsome than most of the men you have come across. Half of his face was obstructed by his hat, however the mustache that adorned his face stood out. He must’ve been in his 40s by the looks of it, too old of a man you could hustle unfortunately.

“And what kind of trouble would that be?” you took a sip from your glass.

He clicked his tongue, then turned to you, “Well, for starters, associating yourself with a dangerous outlaw. With a bounty of 40,000 on his head.” he smiled slightly at your lost expression, “Or, finding yourself in a vulnerable situation with a strange man that you can’t get out of.”

You gave him a sly smile, “Don’t you worry about me, mister. I’ll be just fine.”

“Is that so?”

You stared into your whiskey glass, “I’ve made it this far.”

The man next to you shifted in his seat, “Where are you from?” he leaned closer to you.

You side glanced him, “New Austin.”

“Wherea _bouts_ in New Austin?”

“You interrogate every lady you find at a bar like this, mister?” you raised an eyebrow at him, confused at his anxious demeanor towards you. He was probably a bounty hunter, you did have a reasonable sum on your head.

“Only the ones that look lost, like yourself.” You chuckled with him. He was quite the charmer, you had to give him that.

“So…” he looked on expectantly from you.

You sighed softly, “Armadillo.” you took a last swig of the whiskey, you were already a little hazy.

The man whistled lowly, “You’re a far way from home, miss.”

“I’m glad.” you muttered to yourself.

As you were about to ask the bartender for another glass, the doors of the saloon busted open, grabbing the attention of everyone in the saloon. At the entrance were two men with fancy black neckties. Their gaze went straight to the man sitting next to you.

“There’s that sonova bitch!”

The man next to you slowly stood with his hands up, “Now, fellas, why don’t we get around to this like decent men.”

“Decent? Ha! The only thing decent around here is that gun you keep wavin’ around! And, I’d like to have that gun after I blow your head off.”

“Very well.”

There were two flashes that blinded your eyes, two bangs that hurt your ears. Then you looked to the entrance again, the two men were dead, their head blown off.

The man in front of you rolled his revolver in his hands before holstering it.

This man was certainly either a very skilled bounty hunter, or a very skilled outlaw. And you didn’t know which one was worse.

The people in the saloon had already fled by the time you found your bearings. The man finished the last of his drink, then bid farewell to you.

“Well, until later, madam.”

But, as he was about to head out, a hail storm of bullets erupted into the saloon. You immediately ducked behind the windows. The man had already taken refuge on the other side of the saloon.

“Shit! Sons of bitches brought reinforcements.” he grimaced.

“Who are these people?!” you exclaimed, trying to shield yourselves from the broken window pieces.

“A gang of…outlaws I have had the privilege of running into.” he turned to you, “You ever held a gun before?”

“No?!!” you yelled through the sound of the bullets.

He slid a revolver across the floor to you, “Well, nows your chance. Just uh…aim for the head.” he started to shoot at the men outside, the sound of bullets firing blinding all your senses.

You grabbed the revolver, you knew the basics, but you never took a life.

Oh well, it’s a first for everything.

You aimed out the window, trying to make a figure of how many men were there. There were 3 men hiding behind some crates, and another two on the balcony of the opposite building.

You shot at the two on the balcony, taking them by surprise as they were focused on the man at the other window. You managed a head shot on one of them, but only a neck graze on the other, but he went down anyway.

“The girl’s a natural!” the man exclaimed beside you.

You felt a rush come undone within you, the feeling of the hot revolver in your hands, the thrill of the bullet exploding out of the barrel. You felt your hands aim from one point to another, taking the rest out quickly and efficiently.

It was only when the chaos had gone down were you brought back to your senses.

“Nice shootin’. One would mistake you for an expert.”

You stood from the debris and gave the man his revolver back, “I think it may have been the whiskey.” you chuckled.

Both of you walked out of the saloon, the common folk starting to already emerge from their hiding spots. As you reached the horse stable, you came to a realization that either; someone stole your horse, or it ran away in the chaos.

“Well, best be on my way before the authorities find out what happened. It’s best if you do so too.” the man spoke as he got onto his horse. He stopped to look at you when he saw you just staring at an empty spot of the stable.

“Horse ran away?”

“Yep, must’ve been spooked by all the damn noise.” You grimaced, all your belongings were on that horse, now you had no clothes, no food and no goddamn money. You felt as vulnerable and lonely as the day you ran away from home.

The man looked between you and the incoming lawmen that he was starting to see in the horizon.

“I’ll tell you what, miss. You can come with me. I have a camp near by with some like-minded people, you can stay there and rest until you’re ready to head back out,” he paused, “because, by the looks of it, the law will be on your tail for quite some time.” he said, pointing out to the hazy figures galloping at full speed in the distance.

“How can I trust you?” you squinted your eyes up at him.

He tossed his revolver at you. You caught it.

“If you feel in any way threatened by me, you can shoot me.” you saw the seriousness in his eyes. His statement caught you by utter surprise. Why did he have so much trust in you?

“Quickly now, before they see our faces.” he ushered.

You hitched your dress and climbed the white horse he sat on.

“Now, hold tight.”

Hesitantly, you wrapped your arms around the strange man. Suddenly, he ushered his horse into a fast gallop, almost making you fall over if you hadn’t had your arms around him.

Soon enough, the view of Valentine was falling over the horizon. A sigh of relief escaped you.

“Well, wasn’t that a wild ride.” the man chirped in front of you as you both traveled to a safe enough distance from the town, “Y’know miss, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of knowing your sweet name.”

“I don’t have a name.”

“Why not? A name is a wonderful thing to have!”

“It’s also a curse.” you shot back.

The man laughed knowingly, “That is also true. But a name gives you the pleasure of knowing someone, say, intimately.”

You scoffed, “In that case, may I have the pleasure of knowing your name, o’ kind sir?”

“Anything for a lady.” he tipped his hat in your direction, giving a sly wink when he turned his head to you,

“The name’s Dutch Van Der Linde.”


	2. Meeting The Gang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try to settle into the camp. But, Dutch’s got plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and comments! I honestly didn't think this story would get so many hits ahh~ I'm blushing!! Thank you all so much again ^^

Dutch took you to his camp. It had already reached sundown before the both of you got any close to the area, but it gave you a chance to see a faint glow of light in the distance, obstructed by trees. You had never been this far away from civilization in a long time. You were always drifting from town to town, sleeping in hotels or sheds. But at other times, situations resorted to you sleeping outside of shops; often wearing mens’ clothes to prevent unwanted attention. It was tough living alone, but you never felt regret leaving Armadillo. You would rather sleep in the wet mud then go back to the life you had suffered from.

Dutch slowed the horse’s gallop as he neared the camp. A hoarse voice called out to you both, “Who is it!?”

“It’s Dutch!” he exclaimed. You saw the man who called out, he had a rifle in hand, guarding the camp. He had a rather gruff appearance in comparison to Dutch, sporting shoulder length hair and a few nasty scars on his face.

The full view of the camp came in view, it was much larger than what you were expecting, and many more people stayed residence in the camp. When Dutch said ‘some like-minded people’, you were expecting a couple of men. But there had to be at least more than 15 people living here. There were women too.

As Dutch slowed his horse to a stop and hitched it, the camp folk surrounded him, hounding him with various questions. They hadn’t seemed to notice you yet.

Until you got off the horse that is.

The next thing you know, you had about 8 revolvers pointed right at your head. You froze where you stood, slowly placing your hands up in a surrender. These people were on  _edge_.

“Put your guns down.” Dutch announced. You were astonished at the way his voice had changed from a sly charming voice to one that belongs to a leader. They all slowly, yet hesitantly placed their guns back into their holsters. Except for one man who still had his sawed off shotgun to the side of your head, “I  ** _said_** ; Put your gun down,  _Micah_.” Dutch sneered at the man known as ‘Micah’, he went on to tear the gun away from the man’s hands by force.

“For Pete’s sake!” the crowd around you dispersed to let an older woman, who looked to just about chops someones head off, through. You assumed she was one of the people who got things done around here, “You lot are a bunch of trigger happy  _morons_ , let me tell ya that. And ya’ll should know that Dutch ain’t gonna bring anyone back to camp that he doesn’t trust. Especially a woman!” she huffed to the crowd.

She glanced at your ‘deer caught in the headlights’ expression and felt sympathy over you. You did survive by yourself all these years, you did see a lot of things that you were not necessarily involved in. But this was the first time you saw so many weapons aimed right at your  _head_. It was downright terrifying for you.

“Look at her! She’s scared half to death! Come here, darlin’,” she held her arms around you before guiding you to the campfire where the other women had situated themselves. You sat on one of the wooden logs as the women, and the men standing somehow distantly, introduced themselves to you.

“Now Dutch, why don’t you introduce this lady that you brought to us!” Karen hollered to him.

“Well, Karen, this lady actually saved my life in Valentine today.” he spoke out, a tinge of a proud tone lingered in his voice.

The man who introduced himself as ‘Charles’ spoke up, “Why? What happened in Valentine?”

“Leviticus Cornwall’s men. They ambushed us in the saloon.”

A sudden darkness illuminated each and everyone of their faces. The campfire went quiet. Who was Leviticus Cornwall? The name was somewhat familiar to you, but you might as well be living under a rock if he was some big wig business man.

“Shit. This ain’t good Dutch, sooner or later they gonna find us. And why’d you think it’d be a good idea to bring this girl back, no doubt they’ve seen her face!” Micah’s words seem to only agitate Dutch even more than the situation allowed.

“Watch your words,  _son_.” Dutch stood menacingly over Micah, “If it weren’t for her, I’d be lying on some street half-dead.”

“We all know that’s a lie, Dutch!” Micah stood up, the two were about to butt heads with each other, “Anyone can take care of a couple of Cornwall’s men, easy.”

“Not if you’ve never touched a gun before.” Micah glanced at you, then back at Dutch. Dutch stared him down, hand on his holster, eyebrows knitted together with an increasingly menacing gaze.

To everyone’s relief, Micah walked away from the campfire, but not before sneering at you one last time.

“We’re very sorry for that.” Miss Grimshaw apologized.

You couldn’t help but just smile awkwardly at this whole situation.

“So, why don’t you tell us about yourself a little?” Miss Grimshaw continued.

Well shit, you hadn’t shared any information about yourself with anyone before. Hell, you didn’t even have a name to be called by. You had no identity other than being a drifting thief. You had thoughts of having your own name, and since you were moving so much, you never really created any relationships or got to know people along the way. You found out very fast that the world was not a great place, there was danger at every corner and you couldn’t trust anyone.

But you could trust these people…right? Sure, some of them may be a bit stand offish, but they were a group of outlaws on the run from the law. You didn’t expect them to be so warm to you. Honestly to say, you never held high expectations on anyone all your life.

However, the worst part of it all, you didn’t know anything about yourself. Your chance to have an identity was snatched away from you every time you took a step in this hellish world. And the fact that your skin color was darker than the people around you did not make life easy for you at all.

The sound of someone clearing their throat brought you out of your train of thought. You just realized you were sitting there, not saying anything for a few awkward minutes. You furrowed your eyebrows in annoyance at yourself.

“I-” you stopped, what could you say? That you were born to be a slave for most of your life, only to run away from the one place you knew as a home and into a life of begging for scraps of food and money? Into a life of hustling money from strangers to get by?

“Do you have a name?” Karen questioned you, this time.

“No, I don’t have one.” You hated portraying yourself as vulnerable in front of a bunch of strangers. But something about this group of people made you feel a certain type of serenity, a comfort you never felt before, kindness you’ve never seen.

“I thought everybody has a name.” a small voice called out behind you.  

You turned to see a little boy, no older than the age of 5. He waddled towards you in a cute manner, an innocent curiosity in his eyes. You were surprised to see a little boy here, especially among a gang of outlaws. You noticed the others going on high alert as the boy approached you, they were protective of him, ready to blow your head off at any wrong move. But you would never hurt a child. The boy sat atop the wooden log next to you, he gave you a curious look. And then suddenly, you saw sadness in him.

“I’m sorry..” his voice trembling as his eyes welled up.

“Why are you sorry?” you tried to console the little boy, but you didn’t know how. This was the first time you were ever near a child.

“Mommy says that people who don’t have names don’t have parents.”

Your smile faltered. The innocent words struck a deep nerve in you. It wasn’t a lie. You never had any real parents. The ones you had weren’t even liable to be called parents, they were more slave owners than the latter.

“Jack! Come ‘ere, stop bothering the lady.” Abigail ushered the boy to her. You came to a realization that she was the boy’s mother, but you wondered who the father was.

“Oh, he’s not bothering me,” Jack hopped of the log to walk to his mother, climbing up to sit on her lap, “and you’re right, I never, truly,  _had_ any parents. Or a real family at that matter.”

You gazed into the fire as memories from your childhood started to emerge, “I spent my whole life runnin’, survivin’, so I never really had a chance to choose my own name. And even if I did, what good could a name do in this world?”

A comfortable silence overcame the camp, each person was nestled deep in their own thoughts or thinking over what you had said. Some felt pity for you, some could empathize with what you were saying.

“That’s not true!” the boy cried out again in a soft voice, “A name can do a lot of things. My mommy calls me Jack, and whenever she does I feel happy!” he giggled.

You smiled at the boy’s sweet words. No matter how fucked up a world can be, it’s always a child’s laughter that brings out the purest happiness in someone. It’s always the child that brings a family together.

Everyone chuckled with the boy, feeling somewhat elated by the mild banter.

“I know!” Jack gasped, “Can I choose a name for you?”

“Um-”

“Pleeeasee?” the boy brought his two hands into a prayer position, begging kindheartedly. You giggled at the boy’s antics.

“Okay, okay. What is the name you would like to choose?” You watched as the boy’s eyes lit up and then the next second going into deep thinking mode.

“Hmmm, Oh! How about [Y/N]?” the boy suggested, “I used to kinda have a friend named [Y/N], and you look a lot like her so…yeah! [Y/N]!"

You tested the name on your lips. It felt so foreign to you, yet so familiar. You’d be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t feel weird having a name. Years and years of being called nicknames based in your appearance really took its toll. But, something about being given such a treasured name who belonged to a friend of someone, you couldn’t describe the feeling, it was so alien to you.

“[Y/N]…I like it. Thank you, Jack.” you gave him the most genuine smile that you didn’t know you were capable of giving. The boy beamed with joy at you, excited that he could get to call you by a name he shares so many memories to.

Looking at the boy, you felt tears threatening to surface. To be met with this pure kindness from someone who didn’t know you. Something magical was happening around the campfire, there was laughter, joy and bittersweet kindness. But behind each of those eyes were a certain degree of deep sadness, everyone had their individual stories; of their past, their mistakes, the hurdles they endured and the decisions they regretted, a story that brought them to this point in time to share it with people who will comfort you in anyway they could.

You were mesmerized by the group of people you were staring at. They were like a family. A real family.

A family that stuck by each other through difficulties, and made it to the end together, who shared pain and sorrow as well as joy and happiness. A family that you never had, was sitting right in front of your very eyes.

“Oh boy! It’s getting late, y'all should go to bed we have a  _looong_ day ahead of us tomorrow.” Miss Grimshaw exclaimed, sitting up from her seat next to the campfire and ushering the rest to go to their respective tents like a mother would usher her children to sleep. You couldn’t help but smile at the hectic movement.

Dutch approached you while you weren’t looking, so when you did notice him you had flinched. To which he, of course laughed at.

“Scarin’ you now, am I?” he leaned closer to your sitting form.

You glanced at his boots, “Your boots are just silent..”

He continued to laugh, “Well, when you’re tired, you can sleep in Arthur`s tent for the time being. He ain’t here right now so, I don’t think he’d mind,” he pointed in the direction of three very large tents placed adjacent towards each other, “The one in the middle is mine.” he said as he pointed to the most luxurious tent set up you have ever seen, “The one of the left is John`s, ah, Jack`s father. And the one of the right is my boy, Arthur’s.” he added. You saw a sense of pride in his face as he pointed to ‘Arthur`s’ tent, which was filled with the largest weapon arsenal you have ever laid your eyes upon. You hoped this ‘Arthur’ person wasn’t the violent type.

“See you bright and early in the mornin’ tomorrow.” Dutch retreated into his tent for the night.

You were left alone next to the campfire, that was until you realized you were infact not alone.

“Hi.” the man greeted, very awkwardly.

“...hello.” you tried to focus on the gentle light of the fire.

“So, what’s your story?” he took a drink from his beer bottle.

You tore your gaze away from the fire and to the man sitting adjacent from you, “What?”

“You don’t look like someone who just visits a saloon at random, unless you were there for a specific reason.” he noticed your reluctance to answer his question, he then extended his hand to you, “Javier Escuella.”

You reached out and shook his hand, he was one of the few who hadn’t introduced themselves to you at first, not that you minded.

“And you are…?” you could see the faint presence of a smirk on his features.

You chuckled, understanding what he wanted you to do, “The name’s [Y/N].”

“It’s nice to finally get acquainted to you, Miss [Y/N].”

“And you-” you yawned mid-sentence, Javier laughed next to you.

“You’re tired.”

“Yeah…” you smiled sheepishly after your yawn, “I think I’m gonna hit the hay.”

Javier nodded slightly, staring into the fire with the beer bottle in his hand, “Goodnight.” he muttered behind you.

“Goodnight.”

You made your way to the tent reserved for you, it was quite small compared to Dutch`s tent. Above the cot were 3 pictures, one picture in particular stood out. A picture of three men, you recognized the one in the middle as being Dutch, but the other 2 were stranger to you. Perhaps you’d meet them tomorrow.

You decided not to touch anything lest you get into trouble for snooping.

You laid down on the cot, you had no blanket or pillow, but you were still grateful you had a place to stay tonight. This group, this gang, they were something you’ve never come across before. All you ever saw of the world was violence, sick perverted actions and even worse. But tomorrow, you were going to leave once the law stopped searching for you. And you’d be on the move again, to a different town, a different city further up North. You’ll never see these kind people ever again.

But what if you stayed?

_No, I’d be too much of a nuisance_

You sighed, there was nothing much you could do except get some rest from the night and head back to town tomorrow. You rested your eyes, your mind drifting from a thousand thoughts at once before calming down and sending you into a deep sleep through the night.

 

* * *

 

_“Why, is there a girl sleeping in my tent Dutch?!”_

You heard voices, but you couldn’t pin point from where it was coming from.

_“I thought it was about time you had one in your tent Arthur.”_

The voices seemed to get pretty distant until you could only hear the birds chirping in the trees. The voices merged with the rest of the noise around.

After what felt like hours, you felt your eyes waking up. You slowly opened your eyes and you found a very gruff looking man staring down at you, his face uncomfortably close to yours.

A yelp escaped you as you sat up and accidentally hit your head to a crate that was jutted out of position behind the cot. You held the back of your head in pain. What a great way to start the day, in pain.

“Uh, sorry I didn’t mean to scare ya’.” his voice was so low and rough that you almost couldn’t understand what he was saying. This man was intimidating beyond belief. His broad shoulders and huge stature towering over you made you feel like a small rabbit in a trap.

He cleared his throat “Name’s Arthur.” he never faltered in his intimidating stance.

_So this was Arthur…huh_

You couldn’t help but wonder why most men in this camp were so handsome. Where did they come from? Where have they been all this time?

But Arthur, oh my. His looks alone would make every woman swoon everywhere he went.

“Are you…okay?” You had completely forgot you were in my pain and you had your hand up on your head the whole time. You brought your hand down and straightened your composure.

“Yes, I’m fine.” you winced as you stood up, feeling light headed. There was a bruise forming at the back of your head already.

This was very awkward, neither of you knew what to say. You both just stood, sometimes side glancing at each other. You figured, despite him lookin’ all rough and tough, he had an aura of awkwardness around him. It was a very weird combination. You didn’t know how to feel about it. And it didn’t make it any easier that you were standing in his tent and sleeping in his cot.

“I-I’m sorry for sleepin’ in your tent it’s just-”

“It’s alright, miss. Dutch told me the whole story, you have nothin’ to worry about.” his intimidating stance seemed to falter into that of a an open friendly one.

Just then, Dutch stood outside Arthur’s tent, grinning like he just won a jackpot of money.

“I see you’ve already awoken Miss [Y/N]” Dutch announced as both Arthur and you walked out of the tent, “Miss, why don’t you have a cup of some freshly brewed coffee by the campfire? I have to speak Arthur here, privately.”

The two men watched as you slightly staggered away to the campfire. As soon as you were out of earshot, Arthur turned to Dutch, he had quite a bit of explaining to do.

“Are you sure about this girl, Dutch?” he questioned him.

Dutch placed a cigar in his mouth as he started to speak, “I know what you’re thinkin’. That she might be a rat sent by the Pinkerton agency or Leviticus Cornwall or the O’Driscolls. Even though they ain’t that bright enough to even wipe their own asses. But, she’s definitely not one of them.”

Arthur stared at you, you were already getting along with almost everyone in the camp, they enjoyed your presence. But still, Arthur’s nerves were still going off, until he knew for sure…“How can you be so sure?”

Dutch slapped a piece of paper to his chest. Arthur opened the paper and saw your face below bold letters spelling ‘WANTED’.

“She’s wanted all over West Elizabeth, right from Strawberry all the way down to Blackwater for 1200 dollars.” Dutch released a puff of smoke from his cigar.

“Wanted for theft of Parkonsan’s Ranch, Harley Johnson..and Leviticus Cornwall.” Arthur gaped at the poster.

“She’s a crafty one.” Dutch mentioned, taking in a swig of the cigar as he gazed over at you. The way you carried yourself, the way you acted around everyone, carefree, he couldn’t help but wonder how you robbed all these people. And all by yourself.

At first glance you looked like any harmless ol’ mare. He watched every single movement you made, it all seemed so seamless, like you were walking among the clouds but at the same time also cautious, aware of your surroundings at each second. But Dutch wanted to find out the true you, under the surface. Who you really were, and your skills. He  _desired_ to know. He had a  _thirst_.

“How did she rob all these people?” Arthur gawked between the wanted poster and you, wondering how such a woman like yourself could rob such powerful people without having a whole cavalry on your tail wherever you go.

“And that’s what I’m ‘bout to find out.” Dutch approached the campfire to where you were sitting, “[Y/N] darlin’! Would be so kind and accompany Arthur and I into town today?”

You were oh-so-confused. You glanced around you and found everyone staring at you. It was rare for Dutch to ask a new person to accompany him on a job. Especially someone who isn’t even initiated into the gang. Arthur was baffled at what Dutch was going to do, bringing this girl along with him would draw even more unwanted attention from the Pinkertons and Leviticus Cornwall. They had their eyes all over these areas - like hawks - even the slightest mistake, they would snatch us up.

“For what?” Miss Grimshaw raised from the side.

You noticed Dutch’s face twitch slightly, it was almost unnoticeable. But his eyes never left you as he answered back to the older woman.

“Just for a job Susan, nothin’ more.” you shifted in your seat, his gaze was overpowering, “So, how about it [Y/N]?”

The whole camp watched this whole exchange go on. Dutch was surprising everyone as of late.

“Sure, I’ll…accompany you, Mr Van Der Linde.” you got up from your seat, already making your way to the stables.

“Just call me Dutch, sweetheart.”

All eyes were on you, Dutch and Arthur as you three got the horses ready. Dutch instructed you to sit on Arthur’s horse as his was bigger, until you could get your own horse back. Or a new one.

Your palms tingled with anxiety of the thought of what Dutch wanted you to do. By the looks of the gang, they didn’t seem so thrilled whatsoever that he was asking you to accompany him. And the way he kept looking at you was like a predator slowly watching his prey’s each movement, until the right moment to pounce. He had a hunger in his eyes whenever his gaze was on you. No one could ignore it, neither could you.

 

But, only Dutch knows what Dutch is planning.


	3. First Day, First Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first job with Dutch goes surprisingly well. After the job is done, you finally get to have a chance to bond with Arthur. Dutch asks you about your plans to stay or leave the camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, the reason why this took so long for me to upload is that the chapter 4 I was writing ended up being 8000+ words. So I made a deal with myself that I would work one chapter ahead of schedule to which I publish, so this way I wouldn't have writers block for like a whopping 6 months like I usually do. So sorry for the wait! I hope yall enjoy this chapter because the next one is going to be loooong. And things are just getting started.

“We are going to steal a stagecoach.”

You and Arthur stood dumbfounded in front of the dark-haired man over one of the canyons in The Heartlands. The sun was the highest in the sky, the raging sun rays burning into your skin as every second passed. Dutch stood only a foot away from you, gleaming with excitement over his ‘job’ for you. You were a fool to accept going with him.

“Dutch, do you think that’s wise now considering—”

Dutch waved Arthur off, “Nothin’s gonna happen.” he stepped closer to you, “Now, this stagecoach is transporting newly printed wanted posters. Wanted posters that have the faces of you and I plastered on them. Now I’m sure you don’t want all of New Hanover to know your face now do you? _Especially_ , after the noise we made in Valentine yesterday.”

Arthur may have been intimidating initially, but Dutch put up such a stance in front of you, it was almost hard to keep eye contact. His stare was bearing you down, no wonder he was the leader.

“No.” you swallowed.

“Good.”

You watched as he brought out his binoculars, overlooking the horizon for the stagecoach. You looked to Arthur, who had about the same expression as you; of confusion and helplessness. You watched his face crinkle with frustration, you could tell the years taking a toll on him.

You strode towards Dutch who was hunched over the ledge of the canyon rock, “So, what’s the plan?”

“Arthur and I will stay here on the lookout while you, my dear, will put on a little show for us. Distract the drivers any way you can. Until we give you the signal to put them at gunpoint. Then, Arthur and I will come to ambush them shortly after the signal and take over the stagecoach. They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

“And what if they realize I’m bluffing?”

Dutch turned his head to you and took in your appearance. There was a small smile playing on his lips as he did so, with your short sleeved off-shoulder shirt and front cut long skirt which exposed your calves; you were certainly enticing, “Even if they did, I doubt they’d want to _interrupt_.”

You glanced at yourself before coming to a realization of the meaning behind his words, you rolled your eyes. Personally, you never saw it as much. You adopted the style from the deep South where most women dressed like this. It’s the one thing that tied you back to the South.

“Have you ever stolen a stagecoach before?” he asked, never taking his eyes off the binoculars.

“Yes, but it was a long time ago.” You recalled the memory. You had just run away from home, with no food, no shelter and no clothes, you decided to steal a vacant stagecoach who belonged to a fairly wealthy man. You didn’t know at the time, you were desperate. They chased you all over the hills, but you had learned to manoeuvre a horse pretty quickly that day.

“Was it one of Bill Parkonsan’s stagecoaches?” Arthur spoke up behind you, his huge stature was shielding the sun slightly from your eyes.

“Yes, it was…how did you know that?”

Arthur held up your wanted poster, your face paled at the sight. It was the wanted poster you always saw displayed on every building all over West Elizabeth, it was one of the reasons you travelled East into Valentine. But how did they manage to get a hold of it? The drawing of you was not even recent.

You cleared your throat, looking back to the road valleys, “That’s a wanted poster from when I was 17, it’s the reason I ever started travelling East in the first place. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

Dutch hummed into the binoculars, “I always say; life has a funny way of working itself out.” he stood up, “And there it is right now.”

“What is?” Arthur asked, bring out his own binoculars.

“The ‘funny way’. Come on.”

The stagecoach was approaching fast. Dutch ushered Arthur back to the horses to get ready on his signal, while you made your way down to the path of the stagecoach.

“You still have that revolver I gave you [Y/N]?” Dutch hollered out to you.

“Yes, sir!” you yelled back to him. While playfully saluting him, giving the man a hearty chuckle.

“Good girl.” he muttered to himself.

Arthur watched the back and forth banter quietly. Even though you both knew each other for less than a day, it was like you both knew one another for a long time. Arthur wasn’t sure what to make of this, whether it was the usual Dutch charm, or you were something much more than he initially thought. He watched as you practically _skipped_ towards the road, Dutch and him could see the excitement radiating from you. Dutch found it amusing, obviously. However, Arthur was still very much weary of you.

A new mix of excitement and exhilaration triggered your palms to sweat. It wasn’t like you’ve never done this before, but it was the first time stealing a stagecoach from some lawmen. This was bound to add on to your bounty. You readied yourself for the helpless ol’ mare act. A lone young woman lost in the ways of the wild west. Or, something close to it.

You watched as the stagecoach approached, the men, upon seeing you slowed to stop next to you. You put on your best most innocent and helpless smile.

“Are you ‘lright, ma’am? What’re you doin’ out ‘ere all on your lonesome?” one of the men spoke, the other one next to him already eyeing you up like some precious gold. You planned to further entice the situation.

“Mister, could you tell me where this road leads to? I-…I’m kinda _lost_ , my husband just dumped me on the side of the road, tellin’ me to find my own way home.” you huffed in fake annoyance and fanned yourself desperately in the heat, also bringing out your calf from the front cut of your skirt. The two men gazed at your legs. That caught their attention.

The man cleared his throat, his eyes still on your exposed legs, “Y-You’re welcome to ride on me- I mean, ride with us ma’am. We can take you back to town.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. How do I know you two ain’t gonna just take advantage of me and throw me to the side of the road like my husband did…?” you fanned yourself, slowly this time, more seductively while keeping full eye contact.

“Not to worry ma’am, we’re men of the law.”, he brought out his badge, “I’m Officer Sean Hastings and this here is Officer Collin Mathers.”

The other man sent a quiet ‘Howdy’ towards you, you sent him a small wave. You were getting a little tired of talking to these fools, you wondered when Dutch was going to give you the damn signal. What _were_ they doin’ up there?

“I don’t know if my husband would like me travelling with _other_ men, especially since the road to town is so _far_ away. Anythin’ could happen…” you continued your innocent act, at times glancing at the hills for Dutch’s signal. You left the two fools in their mindless fantasy.

“It’s better if you travel with us ma’am than some dangerous outlaws who might be lurkin’ ‘round these areas. We’re the law, we’ll keep you safe. Please, we _insist_.” the two men were beaming at you.

On cue, you saw the faint shine of a mirror reflection in the hills. It was the signal from Dutch. You saw the two burly men emerge from hiding, with their bandannas hiding their faces.

You smiled brightly at the two lawmen, “Well, if you insist.”

The officer extended his hand to you. However, instead of taking his hand, you pulled out your revolver.

“Ah, ah, ah!” you hollered as the men were about to go for their revolver, the slow click of the revolver hammer froze them, “Put your hands up where I can see them boys.”

The two lawmen hesitantly put their hands up. Dutch and Arthur made it to the stagecoach, getting off their horses to search the back of the stagecoach.

Your gun was kept aimed on the two men, your eyes not moving an inch from your guns target, “Now, don’t try any funny business. If I see so much as a single hair on your head move an _inch_ , I’ll put a bullet right between both your eyes you hear me?” the men stayed silent, “I _said_ , do you hear me?” you stepped closer to them and the scared two men nodded frantically.

“Yes, _ma’am_.” you instructed.

“Y-Yes, ma’am.” they uttered in unison, both scared shitless.

“Good.” you gave them an innocent grin.

You stepped onto the driver seat, quickly disbanding their holstered guns whilst searching for any additional weapons. As you kicked the gun away, you hadn’t noticed till now that Dutch had his gun aimed at the other lawman. He watched you this whole time.

“You boys have gotten yourselves in quite a predicament, haven’t you?” Dutch added while casually leaning on one of the horses.

Arthur came around to the front of the stagecoach with a sackful of cash, “Seems you two have been busy stealin’ things that ain’t yours.”

“How much is in there?” Dutch asked.

Arthur looked inside the brown sack, “Can’t be no more than one thousand in here.”

Arthur and Dutch glanced at each other for a good few seconds, understanding each others untold words.

“Alright.” Dutch stood straight, he moved his revolver in the direction to the side of the stagecoach, instructing the men to get off, “Now, look ‘e here fellas. I would love to paint both your brains out in this ground but, I ain’t no monster. Now you go run on back to your sheriff, and don’t tell em’ what happened here. And if you do, I’ll find you myself and kill you in the middle of the night. You don’t want that to happen now do you?” The two officers shook their head aggressively. You furrowed your eyebrows at Dutch. They saw your face and he was just going to let them go? In no time, more of your face will be all over New Hanover.

The two men stood still, their hands above their head, quaking in their pants. The poor boys must have just joined the law enforcement, they couldn’t have been any older than twenty-one.

Dutch looked to the ground, sighing before shooting close to their feet making them jump in their spot. They were starting to sob.

“Run little piggies!” Dutch laughed.

The men ran as fast as they could in the opposite direction away from the town. In their panic they took the closest exit, now it was too late to change the direction. You then saw them making a large turn over the hills towards the town, desperately keeping their distance from the three of you, you couldn’t help but giggle. The two men beside you bellowed with laughter, Dutch, mostly.

Dutch turned to Arthur, “You got all the money there Arthur?”

“Yeah, this s’all they got.” Arthur said, getting onto the driver seat of the stagecoach before throwing the sack of money to Dutch.

“Wonderful.” Dutch beamed, “[Y/N], will you help Arthur here take the stagecoach to a secluded area to burn it down?” he got on his horse, “Make sure you release the horses before you do.”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer as he rode into the horizon, over the hills. This man was a fast rider, or he was in a hurry to enjoy his money.

The horses suddenly neighed catching your attention to the rather burly man sitting on the stagecoach.

This man, in the sunlight, was such a beautiful creation to be caught staring at. Well moving on, climbing onto the passenger side of the stagecoach was a little more difficult for you than you’d imagined, your dress was constantly being swept up at even the lightest wind. Arthur watched as you struggled, you saw the amused smile on him. Next time, you were wearing pants.

You huffed in frustration as you finally got onto the seat next to the burly man.

“You good?”

“I’m good.” you sighed, adjusting your skirt to cover your knees. You didn’t want them to ride up too much by the wind, especially in front of a man. Well, the idea didn’t seem so bad to you. But something about this man gave you the notion that he couldn’t be swayed that easily by seduction. To which the majority of men could be easily swayed to, from your experience.

Arthur whipped the horses into a slow gallop, and as predicted, your skirt went flying from the unexpected gust of wind. You gasped and clutched to your dress. You heard the man chuckle next to you. Great, you made a fool of yourself a second time in front of him.

“How’s your head?” the low drawl of his voice almost gave you chills in the heavy hot air.

“My head?” you reached up to touch your head only to find a bump slowly forming there. You closed your eyes and took a long inhale remembering what happened this morning.

“Sorry for keepin’ the crate all jut out like that, must’ve hurt.”

You laughed, “It’s nothin’ just a lil’ bump that’s all.”

He hummed in response. But to you it sounded like a low rumble. This man’s voice was going to drive you insane.

“So, you adjustin’ okay in the camp?”

“Yeah, everyone’s nice.” you answered shyly, you had no goddamn idea for whatever reason why you were shy now out of all the times you could have been shy.

Arthur turned to you, “Everyone?”

Okay, maybe not everyone. You hadn’t met everyone around the camp yet, and some of them were already radiating hostility towards you. Micah, and another woman you saw staying alongside Dutch, “Okay, maybe there are a few that, may despise me. And that’s an understatement, they were glarin’ daggers at me more like it.”

He laughed along with you, “I’ve been in this gang since the start. The ones that glare daggers at you, will never get along with you. No matter how hard you try n’ diffuse the situation,” he shook his head in addition to his sentence, “they won’t.”

Time went on before you and Arthur could find a secluded place. When you did, it was behind one of the largest standing monolithic rock you’ve ever seen. New Hanover for you was a wondrous place if you weren’t hassled by the law every time you took a breath.

The rock was so huge you could hide the horses and the stagecoach completely behind it, and any travelling bystander would not even suspect there were people behind the rock. You looked to Arthur, who freed the horses and got a huge bottle of moonshine out of the back of the stagecoach. How did they fit that in there? You had no idea.

You got off the stagecoach, examining the area behind the rock. It was unsuspecting, a little _too_ unsuspecting.

You turned to Arthur who had already started pouring the moonshine all over the vehicle, “You ain’t gonna try anythin’ funny behind this massive rock now are you Mr Arthur?”

The man chuckled lightly at you, “I would never. With the way you were handling that revolver earlier, you’d do right about blow my head off if I did try anythin’ with ya’.”

You held your hands together, fake blushing at the man, “Why, I never knew you felt that way ‘bout me Mr Morgan~”

Arthur gave you a small wink in response, to which you almost blushed for real. You burned that wink in your mind forever. My, what an attractive wink. You couldn’t hide it from yourself anymore, you were utterly attracted to this man. It was silly considering you spent only a few minutes with this man. But you were very good at feeling other people’s energies, and this man radiated nothing but kindness and comfort.

Arthur approached you with a matchbook, handing it to me, “Will you do the honors?”

You looked at the matchbook then to him, “Why me?”

“It’s _your_ wanted posters.” he shrugged.

You took the matchbook from his hand. You took a few steps back with Arthur before lighting the match stick and throwing it at the moonshine drenched stagecoach.

The stagecoach erupted into flames as the fire touched the pure alcohol. Arthur’s horse started to get riled up by the flames, to which he started to soothe the poor thing.

“It’s okay girl.” he cooed to the horse as it got more agitated.

“What’s her name?” you approached the horse, you never had a chance to look at her properly.

“I haven’t had the time to think of one.”

You patted the horse gently; you noticed the horse slightly leaning into your touch, “Well she’s beautiful.” the horse neighed at you, to which you giggled.

You traced your fingers through her dark mane, it was clean. You admired the man for taking enough care with his horse, “How about…Jane?”

Arthur pulled _that_ face at you.

“Well, Jane on the account that she’s a beautiful dark horse, and, there was this book I used to love to read as a child. It was called ‘Jane Eyre’.” you explained

“You can read?”

“Yes.” you looked to the horizon in the direction of Valentine. You could see a faint uplift of dust and sand in the distance indicating a group of people were riding towards their location, “We should get going, no doubt someone has already reported what we did.”

Arthur nodded then climbed onto his horse. He held his hand out to help you get on, to which you gladly accepted the help. The both of you rode off into the distance, the wind whipping through your open hair. In the heavy heat, the feel of the cool fast wind felt like a thousand cold kisses on your skin. For the first time since you ran away from your life, you felt free. You felt complete bliss.

You never really lived up to the outlaw life until you met these people. You were starting to like it.

In front of you, Arthur slowed down his gallop until you both were at a safe distance. The sun had just begun to set, shining a bright golden glow through the plains.

“So, where did you learn to read?” Arthur spoke up, you could feel the low deep timbre of his voice travel through you. Lord, this man.

“When I was three years old there used to be this old woman who lived in our town, just a few houses away.” you started, “There was a rumor around town that her house used to be the towns public library. But then the owner died, and her wife changed the library into a large mansion.”

“Armadillo had a public library? That’s hard to believe.”

“It’s hard to believe it till’ you see it.” you chuckled, “So, anyway, me being the rebellious child I was, decided to sneak into that mansion. But it wasn’t actually a mansion, just a large house. But the library part was true. The house was filled to the brim with books, I couldn’t believe my eyes at the time. Imagine being three and seeing that many books.”

“I’d jump right back out the window.”

Soft laughter erupted from you; you also heard the slight wheeze from Arthur, “Well ain’t everybody like that. I had a thirst for knowledge back then. I still do now but…when you’re a child, it’s somethin’ much more intense.” you smile back at the memory. It was the rare moment you were actually happy.

“So this lady, she taught you to read?”

“Yeah,” you placed your hands on Arthur’s shoulders as he lead the horse up a steep hill, “She caught me stealin’ of course, but she decided not to call the law. I was a small child holdin’ a book twice the size of herself in her hands. It must have been quite a sight. So, she told me to visit her daily after noon, and she’d teach me to write and read. The first book she taught me to read was Jane Eyre.”

“You still have that book?” you were slightly surprised Arthur was still paying attention to your story.

“No, her house was burned down by some hooligans two years later, that book was burned along with the house. She had to leave the town when she started receiving death threats,” you gazed into the scenery passing you, “It was the last I saw her. I haven’t got a clue if she’s still alive or not.” you grimaced.

“But that book,” you smiled as you remember yourself when you were small, reading the book under the street lamp in the middle of the night while your family was asleep, “That book was somethin’ special to me.”

Arthur turned his head around to you briefly, “And how would you feel; if you found that book again?”

“I doubt I’d find it, I turned half of West Elizabeth upside down tryin’ to find it,” you sighed softly to yourself, “But honestly to say, I don’t know how I’d feel if I saw it again. I’d be overwhelmed.”

Arthur was silent, and you were too. The sun was just reaching the horizon, sending a cool breeze and a slight pink-orange hue. It was a comforting silence, the trees moving around with the birds last chirps of the day before they retired for the night. You and Arthur were approaching the camp when you heard a heavy voice call out, “Who goes there?!”

“Arthur, ya’ dumbass!”

You let out a hearty chuckle at Arthur.

The camp came into full view. You got off the horse as Arthur hitched it towards the makeshift horse stable. You hadn’t made it even two steps into the camp before Dutch called out to you with his arms open, a huge grin on his face. You were almost scared of the possible bear hug that was coming along.

“There she is!” Dutch bellowed with laughter as he came closer to you.

Fortunately, he just grasped your shoulder and guided you into the camp where everyone had gathered to hear Dutch’s speech. Arthur was walking right beside you.

“You all should have seen her on the job, she was amazing! She’s like a chameleon! She may seem shy now but once she has a gun in her hands, you’ll see her magic unfold. With her help we were able to snag a thousand dollars today, folks!”

The camp erupted in delight and some muttered unintelligible words. You felt a little uncomfortable being put on the spot like that. Especially since you could see some pair of eyes glaring right at you. But it comforted you that the vast majority of the camp had kindness in their eyes, and some even stared at you in awe.

“Thanks to [Y/N] we can now have a proper feast today, people! Eat up!” They all cheered towards you and Dutch then dispersed around the camp.

Dutch turned you around to talk to you one on one, his arm still placed around your shoulders “I’m really glad you’re here with us [Y/N],” you lightly nodded to his words, “Why don’t you stay with us?”

“I don’t know I-”

“Listen, you have potential. The way you handled that stagecoach, and at your age; the only other person I’ve seen do that was…well…me!” he smiled down to you, “If you stay here, you can hone your skills even further, you’ll make a reasonable earning living with us.”

It wasn’t like you never gave it a thought, it was the only thing running through your mind every second of the day. You had already made a plan to travel up North to Boston, but that was until all your belongings ran away. You liked the camp, they were friendly, but at the same time, you didn’t know anything about them. You knew they were a gang of outlaws, but you presumed there was much more to them than you previously thought. And with the money you previously had, it was money you saved up over the years. The money you stole today was five times the three years’ worth of hustled money you made. But living in a camp like this meant safety as well, you wouldn’t have to worry about robbers, rapists, murderers every time you turned your back to someone. It was a carefree life, it was the second chance at life you were looking for.

You fixed your gaze on Dutch. He was eagerly waiting for an answer from you; but by the look on his face, he already knew the words that were about escape from your lips.

“Alright, I’ll stay.”


	4. Old Habits Die Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Witnessing the degradation of the camp’s hygiene, you come up with a plan to fix things up around here. But not without going for a hunt with Arthur and Charles for some supplies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooo sorry for the long wait for this chapter! I've just been having writers block with the plot lately, but don't yall worry! I've now got a plot for this fic that I'm going to strictly follow. I've been writing up ahead a few chapters so I could get an overview of whats about to happen. So far, everything looks good. I just gotta manage not to fuck it up yay :D So without further ado, I'll let yall enjoy this chapter uwu

“What do you mean you don’t have a bathing area?”

“We keep movin’ too much that we really don’t have one no more.”

You stood solemnly in front of a barrel of murky green water. Apparently, the whole camp was using this same water to clean only their faces and arms. And, if they had the money, they could go to town just to get a bath. You weren’t too picky about hygiene, but you would have liked to take a bath at least once a day. You were used to taking daily baths in the hotels in town, you never really lived in a camp before, so this was a first.

Beside you, Miss Grimshaw stood expectantly, she had shown you where the camp washed themselves upon request. Seemingly, they washed dishes in that _same_ water.

_Ugh._

You side-glanced her, “I ain’t washin’ myself in _that_ water, thank you very much.”

“Then don’t. But sooner or later you’re gonna have to use that water. Or you can go to town with Arthur and have a bath _there_.”

You squinted your eyes at her. What was she hinting at? You saw a tinge of playfulness in her eyes, “Haven’t ya’ll tried bathing in the river?”

“And have your buns frozen off?” she laughed, “None of the girls want salt in their hair. Don’t know about the men though.” She said, glancing at the men who were either doing chores or sleeping drunkenly around the camp, “Honest to god, they’d just about be happy with marinating themselves in their own juices.” She added, increasing the decibel of her voice so Uncle could here.

“I heard that!” Uncle yelled back, waking up from his drunken slumber just to reply at the woman.

“You were supposed to, you oaf.” Miss Grimshaw huffed.

Uncle fell back to the floor, snoring off to glory again with an empty whiskey bottle huddled next to him like a teddy bear.

“I’m sure the water is more fresh and less salty upstream?” you assumed.

“Yes, why don’t we all just jump into the river upstream and freeze to death.” You deadpanned at her mocking tone, “Honey, there ain’t no other way. If you’re particular ‘bout your hygiene, then you can travel with Arthur into town at noon. I’m sure he’d give you some money for a bath.”

You followed her around the camp as she was doing her daily regulations on duties and chores for the camp folk, “Okay, then why don’t we just build a bathing area or stall?”

Miss Grimshaw picked up a few dirty clothes that were lying on the floor next to a tent then aggressively through it in there, you heard a small ‘Hey!’ before you continued to follow the older woman, “Like I never thought of that! We woulda’ had one if none of the men were as lazy as a buncha’ opposums just waitin around to— John! Pick that up, how many times do I gotta tell ya?!” she yelled as John walked past, throwing an empty basket onto the ground in the middle of the camp.

He grumbled something unintelligible before picking up the basket and walking off to the outer perimeter of the camp. You had never really talked to the man, he was very standoffish to you. Unlike the others, he never made it his prerogative to have conversations with anyone really, except Arthur, Dutch and his family.

Miss Grimshaw then turned to you, “Look [Y/N], if you really wanna build a bathing area around camp, you can. Just don’t expect any of the men to come on board with the idea.” She half turned before turning back again to you to say something else, “Also, you need Dutch’s permission before you start. And good luck with that, he never lets us spend a penny ‘round here.” She mumbled the last sentence as she walked away to yell at Micah who was unnecessarily bothering Mary-Beth.

You looked to your side, right at Dutch’s open tent. He was sitting in there, chatting away with a red-headed woman who you never got the chance to meet. Also, with that obnoxiously loud classical music playing through the gramophone.

“Mr Van Der Linde?” you call out to him as you approached close to the tent.

Dutch turned his head and was delighted to see you. He stood up, a cigar in his mouth and arms spread wide open, “[Y/N]! Honestly, you must be the only person in the camp who calls me that. But as much as it fills me with the utmost joy and thrill, I’d prefer if you’d just call me Dutch.”

You leaned your shoulder against the wooden tent post, “Well, as much as that fills _me_ with the utmost delight and assurance to call you Dutch, I’d prefer to call you Mr Van Der Linde.”

Dutch chuckled at you, leaning his forearm against the same wooden post you were leaning into, “And why is that?”

You had to crane your neck to look up at him. The smoke from his cigar filled your lungs as he held it at a relatively close distance to your cheek, “You should be reminded of your surname one of these days, lest you forget about the bounty on you.” Your voice was low and breathy, almost sultry.

“That is true.” He took a drag from his cigar; keeping full eye contact with you, “So, what is it that you needed from me Miss [Y/N]?”

“I want to build an outhouse of sorts, for bathing. With only a few limited materials so it’s suitable for travelling.”

“And?”

You placed your finger on one of the buttons on his vest you traced the intricate design of the luxurious silver button, “I don’t know.” You shrugged; your finger slowly travelling down to the golden chain of his pocket watch, “Miss Grimshaw told me to ask permission from you,” Your hand hovered dangerously close to his belt; he was watching your every move, you gazed up at him, “So how ‘bout it Mr Van Der Linde?”

His smile grew, “If I say yes, would you comply with calling me by my first name?”

“Maybe.” A sly smirk played on your lips.

“Then, Miss [Y/N], you have my permission.”

You were jumping with joy inside; but outside, you kept your cool, “Thank you, _Dutch_.” You began to retreat from the tent.

“If you need anythin’, holler back. You know where to find me.” Dutch spoke out after you.

You turned, walking backwards away from the tent, “Sure thing, Mr Dutch.” Before you turned back around, you saw the red headed woman abruptly stand up from where she was sitting. You wondered what kind of relationship they had, Dutch wouldn’t have possibly flirted with another woman if he was already seeing one, right?

You froze where you were as you realised what you just did.

Did you just manipulate Dutch Van Der Linde through his pants to give you what you wanted? Yes, yes you did. You face-palmed yourself.

Old habits die hard.

You’ve talked your way in and out of so many situations that you lost count. Some of them including seducing a fair amount of men. It worked like a charm honestly, most men could be so easily swayed. Keyword, _most_. You learnt it the hard way when a few men were not too keen of your flirting and seducing, and they could see right through the mask. Let’s just say it got so big because you couldn’t stop talking when you should have, and it involved the sheriff himself involving to stop the fight.

Now, back to the work at hand. You needed to build those bathing stalls. It was a need that not a lot of people would understand. You liked keeping clean every day, apparently that was a weird thing around here.

You scanned the camp. Everyone seemed busy except for Reverend Swanson and Uncle. The men were either sitting by the campfire having a cup of coffee or doin’ the hard work. The women, however, were all bundled up in the corner of the camp, except for Miss Grimshaw who was runnin’ around the camp like a headless chicken to get this place going and Abigail who was running after her son, Jack.

You walked over to the women, their faces gleamed with kindness when they saw you. It wasn’t everyday they could doll up a new lost addition to the group.

“Hiya there!” Karen exclaimed, “I heard from Miss Grimshaw that you wanted to build some bathin’ stalls.” You sat down next to them, they all had been playing poker before you came waltzing about.

“Yeah, about that—”

Karen interrupted, “Grimshaw tried to do that, but-” she started bellowing with laughter, “You should’ve been there! Micah was tryin’ to nail a plank of wood on top; turns out he hadn’t nailed them in properly and he fell straight through the wood!” The other woman laughed with the her.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the mental image of Micah falling face first to the floor from 7 feet above the ground.

“So, how you gon’ build one?” Mary-Beth asked from the side whilst trying to hide her cards from Karen.

“I’m not gonna build it with a roof, that’s for sure.” The girls hummed together, concentrating on eachother’s expression in the meantime, “I’ll just need four poles of wood, and some drapes. Which, I’m guessin’ I have to make myself. With huntin’ and all that.” You mentioned as they continued, attempting to hustle one another.

“You need to ask Dutch first.” Tilly started, “Can’t do anythin’ without the big man’s permission—”

“I already got his permission.”

They all froze then slowly turned their heads to you, their eyes about to pop out of their sockets with the amount of shock they had received. This got you thinkin’. Did Dutch never allow stuff around the camp?

“Excuse moi?!” Mary-Beth gaped.

Karen threw her cards down, turning her whole body in your direction with a very serious demeanour than you usually see her with. How was this such a big deal to them?

“Heeyy! Do you forfeit Karen?!” Tilly gleamed with questioning joy.

Karen looked to her cards, quickly picking them up again before Tilly could catch a quick glance, “No, I don’t.” the blonde turned her attention to you once again, “How in God’s name did you get that man to say ‘yes’?” Karen was exasperated, “I tried to ask for somethin’ and I was told ‘no’ not even a second later after I was done talkin’!” she threw her hands in the air, her cards almost slipping from her hands if she hadn’t caught it in time.

Tilly chuckled, “That’s cuz you asked for a large cart-sized barrel full o’ whiskey. Not one, but two.”

“It was for medicinal purposes!” Karen pointed a finger at her, Tilly snorted at her words, “It was a reasonable cause!”

“It’s completely unreasonable.” Mary-Beth added.

Karen sighed, looking a little bummed out but then gleaming with curiosity when meeting eyes with you again, “So, how’d you do it, missy? Did you flirt with him?”

You smiled sheepishly, “A little.”

Karen waved you off, “Pft! Flirting doesn’t affect the man. I tried to flirt with him and he told me to go visit a doctor! Told me I might have a fever or somethin’!” she exclaimed in disbelief.

“Hey, at least he cared for your health.” Tilly smirked, resulting in Karen glaring at her in reply.

Mary-Beth poked Karen’s shoulder from behind her, “Are you sayin’ that Dutch may have a little somethin’ for [Y/N]?” she jumped gleefully in her seat, clapping her hands gently, “Oh! That’s so romantic! The new outlaw gang member and the outlaw gang’s leader meeting under the moonlight, away from everyone else so that they could—”

“-diddle all night together?”

Mary-Beth deadpanned, lightly slapping Karen’s shoulder for ruining her fantasy. Karen laid on the ground, laughing at Mary-Beth’s face.

“Keep it in your head Mary, or in that journal o’ yours you keep writin’ in. Reality ain’t like that where a prince in shinin’ armor can rescue you away in his _valiant_ steed. Dutch may have shinin’ armor, and he may have a fast steed, but he ain’t no prince.” Tilly retorted. You observed Tilly’s words, you could see a deep sadness within her, which you could tell she was trying to hide with being tough and outwardly.

“Ha! Who needs rescuing by princes, when infact, _they_ need rescuin’ _from_ _us_!” Karen countered her, earning a chuckle or two from the two other women. The camp side where they were situated was filled with laughter and joyful bickering, it was something wholesome to be a part of playful banter between completely random off-topic conversations.

You began to get up from your spot, not wanting to bother them no more.

“Where you goin’?” Karen asked after you.

“Well, as much as I’d love to be a part of these conversations, I need to get started on the work.” You slightly stretched when you stood up.

“Oh yeah, for those drapes you gonna need either Charles or Arthur’s help, they know where to get that material from.” Tilly explained, her eyes were still on Karen’s face. The two were shooting arrows at each other through their eyes, neither of them trying to show any weakness in their face.

“`Kay thanks Tilly.” You smiled at her.

“It’s no problem.” Tilly placed her cards to the table, “Full house.”

“I fold.” Mary-Beth chucked her cards on the table.

“Straight flush, ladies!” Karen yelled excitedly as she uncovered her cards.

“What in the hell—?!”

You chuckled as you ventured away from the girls, their yelling becoming increasingly more intense every step you took further away from them. You glanced back to see Tilly and Karen a chokehold away from each other, with Mary in the middle throwing cards at the two women in a desperate attempt to cool them down.

You looked around the camp once again, looking for either Charles or Arthur. The morning was still young, you had plenty of time to go hunting and order a placement of wood to the camp.

You saw the two in fact, standing together near the horse stables. With the weapons they were loading onto their horses, you guessed they themselves were going to go hunting. A perfect opportunity. You strode to them, the heels of your boots kicking back the dirt.

Arthur saw you coming towards them; with a tip of his hat, he greeted you, “Good mornin’.” Charles turned around to you, giving you a slight nod in acknowledgement.

“Good mornin’ fellas.” You glanced at the horses before resting your eyes on the two burly men, “Ya’ll goin’ hunting?”

“Mhm, Pearson needs some meat, and uh, Charles needs some pelt.” Arthur mentioned.

You watched as the two men got on their horses, readying themselves for the somewhat long journey, “Do ya’ll mind if I could come along? I need some materials that I’m gonna need for crafting.”

Arthur nodded to you, “Sure, get on.” He gestured for you to climb his horse, “How ‘bout we get you a new horse on the way too?”

“Yeah, okay.” You smiled shyly at him.

You never noticed it before but; when you sat behind Arthur on the horse, you could not see anything in the front at all. This man’s shoulders were thrice as wide as yours, he was built like a damn chimney. You resorted to just observing the trees as you rode past them. Occasionally catching a glimpse of a deer peeking out a bush then sprinting away, the rabbits running at full speed next to the horses, and the delightful music of the birds up high in the woodland trees. Nature had a profound way of calming all the worries in your life.

Arthur cleared his throat; bringing you back from dozing off, “You ever hunt before?”

You chuckled nervously, “No, actually, I haven’t.”

Arthur turned his head around to you slowly, saying nothing before turning to look towards the front again, “You mean to tell me that; of all the years you’ve been livin’ alone, you’ve never hunted a single animal before?”

You shrugged, “Never had the need to. I lived the life of a drifter, so really, I relied mostly on the towns for supplies. I never lived in the wild, if that’s what you were wonderin’.”

You slowly placed your hands on his shoulders; Arthur slightly tensed at your soft touch, “Besides, I was hopin’ you’d teach me how to hunt, Arthur.”

“`lright, sure.” He whipped the horse into a slow gallop, following Charles horse. Charles was silently listening into you and Arthur’s conversation from the front.

“What pelt did you need?” Charles spoke up for the first time since you’ve…first seen him, really.

You used Arthur’s shoulders to balance yourself while you slightly sat up in order to see Charles in the front, “I was thinkin’ of somethin’ waterproof maybe? Like leather!” you exclaimed towards Charles.

“Leather pelt is hard to get here, very time-consuming. You’re going to have to get the pelt you need in the town’s general store.” Charles replied.

“It’s also expensive.” Arthur murmured, “What are ya’ plannin’ to build in camp anyway?”

“A bathing outhouse.” You gleamed at the blonde.

“And…you’re plannin’ to build one with leather?”

“And four wooden poles. I’m makin’ it portable so if ya’ll need to move again…”

You heard a wheezy chuckle come out of the older man. You knotted your eyebrows together, wondering what was so funny, “What’s so funny?” you inquired.

Arthur cleared his throat once again, “You think you can build one with just four wooden poles and leather?”

“Uh-huh,” you pulled yourself up to lean in close to his ear, “Watch me.” You whispered, a smirk adorning your features.

Arthur tensed at your close proximity to him once again. You kept your gaze on him until Arthur tore away his own and concentrated on the path in front of him.

And that was that; for the rest of the way to the hunting area, you had stayed silent. Occasionally, Arthur and Charles would spark up a conversation with each other, however it mostly involved discussing which animal they could find and where. The lack of action from the long droning minutes was driving you crazy. You liked the great outdoors as much as the next person; but after that shootout in the saloon, and the robbery of the lawmen’s stagecoach, it was a thrill you were starting to _itch_ for.

Now, would you just shoot up a town just for the adrenaline thrill? No. But would you shoot up rival gangs if it gave you satisfaction? Hell yes. You’d never hurt an innocent person other than _maybe_ steal their money but shooting up a bunch of cannibals was something you would love to live and be known for.

The sudden stop of the horse caused you to faceplant straight onto Arthur’s back. If he stopped in a full gallop, you probably would have been catapulted 10 feet into the air. This man was _harsh_ with his stops.

“You okay there?” he obviously felt your face hit against his back, and not to mention it was full of _sweat_.

“Yes.” You murmured in annoyance, slowly leaning back with embarrassment plastered all over your face, “Are we at the hunting region?” you asked naively. You observed as Arthur got off the horse, equipping his bow and arrow.

He slightly smirked at your question, “Yeah, we’re at the ‘hunting region’. First we need to check the snares Charles placed last night.”

You jumped off the horse, “Well, what’re we waitin’ for?” you chirped, already walking in a random direction ahead of the men.

“[Y/N], the snares are this way.” Arthur called out to you before you strode a little too far. You stopped in your tracks then began to follow the two hunters on their way deeper into the woods.

You watched your footing as you followed them through the dense woodlands, concentrating on the way your boots sounded against the twigs and dry leaves.

“So, um, why don’t ya’ll tell me some theory on hunting?” you staggered towards the men.

Arthur glanced back briefly to you, “Theory?”

“Yeah, explain how ya’ll do it. Are there any techniques? The kind of weapons that’s best of use, how to attract the damn animals in the first place? You know, stuff like that.” You carefully stepped through the root heavy forest floor, slightly stumbling as you did, “ _Lecture_ me, _professors_.” You emphasized, placing your hands on your chest.

A slight chuckle escaped both the men in front of you, “Well, it’s pretty cut and dry—” Arthur drawled.

“There are three essential rules I stand by,” Charles started, holding up 3 of his fingers before you “Most importantly; first and foremost, you need to stay quiet.”

You raised your eyebrows at his sudden boldness, or maybe he was always bold but not talkative. You also heard a hint of some sassiness in his voice, “Point taken.” You mumbled.

“Secondly, always be aware of your surroundings, there will always be a predator who is after the same prey as the one you will be hunting.” You jotted these down in your mind.

“Third, always aim for the vital points. You always want a clean kill for the best meat and pelt, not a messy one.”

“This is good stuff.” You whispered silently to Arthur, you were pretty sure Charles wouldn’t have been able to hear that.

Charles turned his head to you, “You do not have to be quiet _now_ , but when a prey or predator is in your vicinity.”

You gaped at the man, “How’d you hear me?”

“I can hear a berry being eaten a mile away, and I can tell what kind of animal it is.” He smirked in your direction.

“Sure.” You snorted.

Cocky.

Arthur let out a hearty chuckle at the banter. You walked alongside Arthur towards the snares. There were two rabbits caught up in each, one strangled to death. A horrible way to die. The reason why you never had the incentive to ever hunt is because you didn’t like seeing animals in pain or agony, or worse, dead. They were innocent, pure souls that you wanted to protect.

The rabbit in Arthur’s snare was dead, however the one in Charles’s snare was still very much alive and struggling against the trap aggressively upon sighting the trio of humans, only leading the snare to become tighter around its frail neck.

It finally suffocated itself to death.

The three of you stood silent, gazing down upon the rabbit with an uncertain gloom heavy in the air. The world was changing, and you knew it, you were not blind to it. You’ve seen men die in the hands of that change, you’ve seen men die in the same way as that rabbit did. You’ve seen men die at the hands of evil. Too many. The Wild West was disappearing, and with it, its outlaws.

Just like that rabbit, trying to escape from a losing fight, an inevitable fate. Only to be entangled in the fast-paced world and suffocate themselves with their old ways. If you didn’t change with the world; if you were too slow to catch up, the end would be near for you.

But most importantly, that rabbit reminded you of yourself. Destined to be a mere prey, to be hunted on, preyed on. You believed it for some time, struggling for years on scraps of food, running away at the sign of any danger. Until you couldn’t take it no more. If you hadn’t evolved into the ways of the world, you surely would have ended up trapped, dead, hunted, or tortured.

Destined to be a prey, caught up in a noose, struggling to live, only to be skinned alive by the world around you.

“Let’s move on.” Arthur spoke out in a soft whisper beside you.

Charles nodded to him, finishing up on the catch and placing it inside his satchel. You stood, watching as Arthur’s knife dug into the skin of the rabbit, blood oozing out from the wound. He skinned it, inch by inch, then cut up its body for the meat. You could feel the pain with every inch.

“Charles, you can go on ahead to find your pelt.” Arthur spoke up.

Charles nodded to him silently, already making his way deeper into the forest leaving you and Arthur alone. Arthur stood up next to you, waving his hand in front of your face in an attempt to bring you out of you daze.

“Huh?”

You looked to Arthur, then around you to find Charles no longer with the both of you, “Where did Charles go off to?”

“He went off to hunt for his pelt, told him he could go on ahead.” You glanced at him in bewilderment, “Thought you wanted to learn how to hunt.”

Realization dawned your face, “Oh, yes. Lead the way cowboy.” You gave him a small smile, extending your hand in the direction ahead of him.

Arthur scoffed at that comment then proceeded into the forest. You observed everything he did, the way he observed the paw prints and half eaten berries, down to how fresh an animal’s droppings were. By the looks of things, the animal was still pretty far away, but it had been leaving traces of itself every several meters, which was odd.

Arthur stopped in his tracks, turning to you, “You’re quiet.”

You stopped in your tracks immediately behind him, you looked up to him, “Am I? I was just focusing on what you were doin’.”

Arthur could see the slight lost, dreary look in your eyes. But he let it be, it wasn’t his business to budge in into whatever you were feeling at that moment. He went on, tracking the animal, with you right behind him studying his every move. Arthur crouched when he saw the distinctive shape of a pair of a deer’s ears poke out from behind the bush. He placed his finger on his lips to silence your movement.

You crouched beside him as he brought out his bow and arrow, “You know how to use one?” he inquired, holding it out to you.

You took the bow from his hands, “Uh, just pull back and let go?”

Arthur stared silently at you for a couple of seconds, in slight disbelief, but he expected it, “Clearly not.” He sighed.

He shifted closer to you, “Hold the middle of the bow like this.” He guided your hand into grasping the bow like someone squeezing another person’s neck with one hand.

“Now, when you pull back the arrow, place your fingers in a hook like position. Trying to pull it back like pullin’ a thread is just gonna hurt ya.” You pulled back the arrow, almost slipping from your fingers if you hadn’t had the correct placement of your fingers. Your arm trembled as the strain of the string grew.

Arthur shifted even closer until his head was right next to yours, looking through the same aim of the bow as you were. Your heart was starting to beat faster than it has ever beaten before. But why? You tried to command your heart to calm down through your mind, but it wasn’t working. It was one of those times when your body had a brain of its own.

Arthur gently placed his hand under your arm, guiding your aim towards the deer’s vital points. You could feel his warm breath against your cheek, his beard lightly scratching against your soft skin. It may have not been such a big deal for him, but you on the other hand were overheating. The blood rushing to your face and brain didn’t help at all as it made you even more aware of the body heat wavering off the hunk of a man crouching right next to you, not even an inch of distance between the both of you.

You held your breath as Arthur once again placed his arm on your back to straighten your posture, and another to keep your elbow straight. The parts of your skin he touched tingled for a few seconds, sending shock-waves to your brain. This felt like blissful torture for you.

“Now, let go.” He whispered next to your ear. Your body immediately did as it was told without giving your mind a second thought.

The arrow cut through the air, only for it to drop smack dab right in front of the deer. All the deer in the surrounding area, as soon as the sound of the arrow hitting the ground reached their ears, the deer just booked it.

You deadpanned at the spot at where the arrow laid, inanimate, waiting to get picked up.

Pathetic.

Arthur hummed at the current situation, “Just need to work on that strength a lil’. Other than that, it was good for a first try.” He strained, getting up from his crouch position. He walked over to where the arrow laid, picking it up.

You stood up from your position, wiping the sweat off your brow. You just couldn’t concentrate with him crouching so close, and in this heat.  You’re skills were miscalculated, you frowned at the man, behind his back.

He got onto his horse, “Come on now, we also need to get you a new horse.” He shouted over at you.

It was a short hunting session, but it had taken so much energy out of you that you just wanted to drop onto the floor and sleep for the rest of the day.

You climbed onto his horse. You noticed Arthur wipe the sweat from his forehead, was he aware in anyway of what he did or does he just not know what kind of effect he has on women around him? Or, it could just be the heat.

The darn smoldering heat making you both hot and bothered, and not in the good way.

 

* * *

 

“57 for these poor quality pelts?!” you yelled at the shop owner. You held the leather pelts in your hand, they weren’t enough to stitch together one curtain let alone three separate curtains. Arthur was right, they were expensive. And trying to hunt for leather was worth more resources and your time.

“No, these are good quality pelts. You just don’t have an eye for it.” The shopkeeper replied, a resentful look in his eyes.

“Excuse me?” you slammed the pelts down onto the counter, not caring whether they would get damaged, “Anyone with half a brain can see these ain’t even worth a cent.”

The man behind the counter sighed, “I won’t give it to you any more than 50.”

“45.”

“50.” He sneered through his teeth.

Just then, Arthur walked through the door of the general store. You had sent him to load up the wood that you requested for, and that was about to be paid for through Arthur’s kind generosity, “[Y/N] are you done in here or—”

“Listen mister,” you started, “There are a lot of shops around New Hanover where I can buy these pelts, which ain’t enough to do anything with, which will be in better condition, for less than 10.”

The man sighed once again, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration, “I’ll offer it to you for 30, no less.”

“Make it 25, and you have a deal.” You smiled triumphantly at the grumbling shopkeeper. Defeated, the man agreed to your bargain. You turned to Arthur, “Arthur, would you be a darling and give him the money?” You turned back to the shopkeeper, keeping the smug smile on your face, “Pleasure doing business with you, _partner_.” You grabbed the remaining pelts and made your way out of the shop.

Arthur followed you out of the shop right after paying off the bill. He glanced at the pelts and then at your face which was beaming with happiness, “Are those pelts really that bad?” he asked, taking one of the pelts from your hands as the both of you walked back to the wagon that was so graciously given by the shop owner.

“Actually, they’re pristine pelts.” Your smirked at Arthur, “I just didn’t want you spending too much money for what I want.” Arthur raised his eyebrows at you, he was thoroughly impressed how you hustled the man so easily and quickly.

You placed the pelts in the back then proceeded to get into the passenger side of the wagon. Arthur got into the driver seat, holding the reins firmly, whipping the horses into a small trot, “That’s alright, I don’t mind spendin’ a little money for someone else for a change.”

You looked back into the wagon, “I wish I coulda got some more pelts, that just ain’t enough.” You grimaced, “Maybe I could go hunting tomorrow as well…” you mumbled to yourself, deep in thought.

“So, you hustle shop owners often?” Arthur side-smiled to you.

“You can say that, it’s how I’ve survived for so long without getting killed and dumped in some backwater city.” You shifted in your seat to face him, “Now, I’ve been talkin’ my ass off so much lately; why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, Arthur Morgan?”

“What’s there to know? I’m a wanted man part of the Dutch Van Der Linde gang on the run from the law.” He kept his attention in front of him, guiding the horses outside of the town.

“That sounds like a newspaper headline to me.” Your gaze lingered on him for a few seconds, drinking in his appearance. You observed his constant frown of his eyebrows, his squinted eyes in the sun, the way his tousled hair - that was peeking out from the hat - danced with the wind. And _oh_ , that jawline alone of his could cut a man, paired with that slight beard made him look so very alluring. But Arthur’s demeanour stood out to you much more than his obvious good looks, it wasn’t of a man with confidence, you noticed he was very careful with talking to women than with men. With men he stood intimidatingly, and even somewhat brutish. However, with women, he was soft, kind and a little tease, but also with a slight sadness within him.

You shifted closer to him, gazing into his eyes as he stared into yours, “But I think there’s much more to this face than what meets the eye.”

“And what meets the eye, exactly?” you felt the vibrations his voice through the wood of the seat you were sitting on.

“I see a rough, gruff, certainly very burly, brute of a man who’s not afraid to show his strength where need be.” Arthur huffed in amusement, “However, I also see a distant sadness in those eyes which is also mysterious, like a lone cowboy.” You hummed through your words.

Arthur gazed into your eyes, he saw the playful sparkle in your eyes, the same slight smirk that he always saw playing on those lips of yours. You were so close to him, if you had leaned any closer, and if it were any other man, they would be all over you by now. It wouldn’t have mattered if you were in public. And then he remembered Mary, a picture of her face entered his mind like an intruding jackhammer. Fortunately for Arthur’s sanity, you leaned back immediately once realizing the closeness.

“But I’ll understand if you don’t want to say.” You muttered to him, avoiding eye contact, your eyes resting on the scenery passing by your side.

There was silence once again among the two of you, but instead of a comfortable silence, this one was more of a nervous one. One, because of the previous conversation and you accidentally invading his space, and two, the two of you were in the great outdoors out of the town riding a large cart full of supplies with potentially being robbed by other outlaws, or worse.

You watched the surroundings with great observance as Arthur moved the cart forward with care. Although there was nothing around you, you couldn’t help but feel an impeding sense of danger coming upon the both of you.

Your suspicions taught you correct as you saw rustling in the bushes near a bridge and 3 men jump out with their revolvers aimed right at you and Arthur. And you immediately recognized them.

“Look at what we found boys! Dutch’s lapdog!”

Arthur stopped the cart just in time before running them over with it. On second thought, maybe he should have run them over.

“Fucking O’Driscolls..” you muttered under your breath, Arthur turned his head slightly to you.

“You had a run in with them before?” he whispered to you rather quickly.

“Who _hasn’t_ by now.”

“Go on, get off! Your whore too!” the man sneered at the two of you.

Arthur was reaching for a gun when four other men came out of the woods from both sides, rifles aimed right at your heads.

“You might want to rethink that decision.” said the man who you assumed was the leader of this small subgroup of O’Driscolls.

The two of you held your hands up, Arthur let out a frustrated sigh as he got off the cart. When you got off the cart, an O’Driscoll had the nerve to grab at your hair. You back kicked him right between the legs before he could. He went down howling in pain, another O’Driscoll behind him pushed you onto the ground on your stomach, his gun’s barrel held right at the crown of your skull. The pain stung as his barrel dug into the skin of your scalp.

Arthur on the side was seething with rage at your mistreatment, you swore you saw a flash in his eyes from the anger. He turned to the O’driscoll holding the revolver at his face, “What do you want.” He more so demanded than asked.

“Oh~ well isn’t that the answer of the question we’re all looking for.” The O’Driscoll playfully dangled the gun in front of him. If Arthur wanted, he could have ripped the revolver right from his hands and shot all the O’Driscolls down before they knew he even moved an inch. But with the revolver at _your_ head, he contained his itch to see their death.

“I want the location of your camp, now since you are not going give up that information so easily,” the man in charge, he was an older man than the rest, more experienced you could tell. He turned his head to you, a wretched smile on his face as he made his way to you, squatting to the ground near where your head laid forced against the dirt, his grin grew as you continued to struggle against your hold, “I thought I would disfigure this pretty little whore of yours to get you talking’.” He caressed the barrel of his revolver against your cheek, you felt disgusted but unable to move your head.

Arthur stayed silent. He took a liking to you, but he couldn’t jeopardize the entirety of the camp just for you. And foremost of all, you understood his silence. You saw Arthurs fist clenched so hard that you were almost afraid to see blood dripping from his fists.

The man was unimpressed by the silence, “You may not talk, however…” he glanced at you, “Cuff him boys.”

An O’Driscoll kicked the back of Arthur’s legs , pushing him down to his knees to cuff his wrists. It took 3 men to hold him down before getting that cuff anywhere near him, and placing the cuff took an additional two men to place them on. In short, all the O’Driscolls were restraining Arthur, while only one was by your side, the same old man holding his revolver at your neck. Arthur grunted against the restraint until they all heard the familiar click of cuff’s lock.

“Now, would you kindly tell me where Dutch’s camp is?” this man was far too eloquent to be part of the O’Driscolls, from his mannerisms all the way to the styled moustache he adorned, it was anything but O’Driscoll.

“You’re not an O’Driscoll.”

The man grinned, lightly waving his gun as he chuckled flamboyantly, “My, aren’t you an observant little thing?” he muttered to you, you could now hear the slight German accent sound through his words, “My name is Wolfgang Schultz.” he said proudly.

You slowly stood up, your hands in a surrendering position as he still had his revolver trained on you, moving with your body, “Wolfgang? Like the musician.”

“Ah, I see, you’re a woman of the arts and culture. I find that very rare.” He was definitely not an O’Driscoll. You noticed the grip around his hands faltering a slight bit.

“Yes, my mother used to play it throughout the day on her gramophone. Quite a pianist he was. In fact, you look just like him.” The flattery always worked, and in this case, he hopefully fell for it. As for the boys restraining Arthur, they did not.

“Mr Schultz, I-I thought we was going be holdin’ them for ransom and all. I can’t- we can’t hold him much longer.” One of them spoke up, struggling to restrain Arthur as each minute passed.

Schultz glanced at the boy, “Shut it, du fickfehler.” He turned back to you with a smile on his face, “I’m sorry, madam, you should tell me where Dutch Van der Linde’s gang resides. I would hate to see that man’s pretty face all mangled and bloody by the bullet of this revolver.” He pulled back the hammer of the gun as he held it against Arthur.

You swallowed, staring intently at the man, “Okay, instead of the gang’s whereabouts, what if I was willing to give you information on something much more valuable?”

He shrugged, “It depends, really. What is the information you are offering?”

“I know Dutch Van Der Linde hides a secret stash of money away from the camp, that money has 60 per cent of all the gang’s money from their previous bank robberies, loan hustles, you name it.”

You had stolen Schultz’s attention with the words that came out of your mouth, if he wasn’t trying to kill you, he would’ve fallen in love. From the look on his eyes, he looked as though someone had just told him he was going to be crowned the King of England. On the other side of things, Arthur was completely and utterly flabbergasted. You couldn’t have known anything about that, not even the closest members of the gang knew about it. He felt betrayed by you.

“And I know where it is.” You mentioned.

Schultz held his hand to his heart, acting as if his heart had been lifted, his revolver slightly swaying from Arthur’s face, “Well, isn’t this news. This would put a smile on the old man’s face!”

“Who? Colm?” a clueless O’Driscoll spoke up.

“No, the president of the United States of Americ- of course Colm you arsch mit ohren!”

“Schultz ya know I can’t understand German—”

Schultz shot the O’driscoll right through his right eye. The boy fell over Arthur, right in front of him. Schultz sighed, “He must’ve been dropped on his head at birth, in truth, maybe all of you did.”

You noticed the O’Driscolls grip faltering on Arthur and you acted quick. You unholstered your hidden revolver under your skirt, you started walking backwards towards the cart as you blindly aimed in Schultz direction, you pulled the hammer of the revolver multiple times. The bullets travelled straight through the various points on his chest before he could even predict your move.

You dived behind the side of the cart as the rest of the O’Driscolls fathomed what had happened and brought out their rifles. They started shooting wildly at the position you hid behind. The horses were hitting their hooves against the dirt, creating a faint cover for you as you moved to the back of the cart. You attempted to reach around to shoot one of them, but they were quicker than you, sending a rain of bullets your way. Arthur was quicker to move than them; though, as he was cuffed, he moved to trip the four O’Driscolls behind him, giving you the opportunity to get the upper hand.

However, you had other plans. Arthur’s cuffed wrists were slightly lifted from his back. From the small tiny opening you received, you laid flat against the ground underneath the cart and you shot right through the shackles of the cuff, the bullet miraculously managed to not graze his flesh. Arthur heard the familiar tear of the metal from the revolver bullet. Within a fraction of a second, he turned on his back, bringing his guns out from his holster, from the ground taking down the rest of the O’Driscolls with his dual Schofields revolvers.

Arthur’s marksmanship mesmerised you, he took down the remaining four men within a millisecond of each other, not giving them a chance to even blink at him. And aiming from the ground level was always proven difficult for anyone, but Arthur executed it with ease.

Arthur laid still on the ground, his arms spread by his side from exhaustion and frustration. You brought yourself out from the hiding spot underneath the cart, revolver in hand you made your way to Arthur.

“That…was…Amazing!” you exclaimed, out of breath.

Like a flash of lightning, Arthur brought himself up; kicking your revolver away from your hand with his knee. He grabbed your arm, pulling you down to the ground with him. He held both your wrists above your head with his one hand, settling his knees on either side of your waist, restraining you with his weight.

“Arthur?!” you gasped, struggling against this beast of a man. You did not enjoy being manhandled this way, but you enjoyed it other ways. Just not this.

“What in the _hell_ did you just pull right there?” he growled; leaning in close to your face, using the barrel of his Schofield revolver to slowly lift your chin up to meet his eyes. You wondered what it was with men and using the barrel of their guns to touch women.

You breathed hard against the weight of this man, he was crushing your small body beneath his massive one, “Well, _Arthur_ , I had to get us out one way or another. They didn’t seem too _keen_ on lettin’ us go on our merry way.”

“What was the need to involve Dutch’s money in there?” the timbre of his voice vibrated through you, he dug his revolver deeper under the side of your chin.

You grinned against the feel of the revolver, “A little manipulation never hurt no one, well, on second thought—” you groaned softly as you felt pain from Arthur squeezing your wrists harder, possibly creating a bruise. This was quite a predicament you had brought upon yourself, “I had to lead them on, otherwise we wouldn’t have got the opportunity that we just _had_.”

“How can I trust you now?” he leaned closer, intending to put enough weight to create bruising on your wrists and under your chin.

You breathed out, a slight inaudible moan slipping out as you spoke, “I can’t force you to trust me, but I’ll tell you this; I never had the intention to betray you or the gang. I only ever intended to lead them on, so I killed the bastards. I would kill myself before giving into them O’Driscolls.” Arthur saw the hatred you harbored for the O’Driscolls in your eyes, the same hatred he saw in Sadie, in Dutch and in himself.

“Now, would you be a gentleman and let go of me?” you smiled up at him, “Or are you getting a kick out of restrainin’ me in the middle of the road, among dead bodies, more than I am?” you slightly rolled your hips underneath him, involuntarily.

You saw the man’s face turn red as realization dawned his face. He let go off your wrists and holstered his revolver before getting off you. You laughed wholeheartedly at his face, getting up from the ground dusting off the dirt from your clothes. You enjoyed teasing him.

“You’re one strange woman.” Arthur grumbled, getting onto the cart once again, “Come on, let’s get outta here before anyone reports to the law, _again_.” He side-eyed you at the end of that sentence.

“Oh, but the thrill of almost gettin’ caught _excites_ me.” You said, getting onto the cart next to him.

“Well, you ain’t the only one.”

Arthur drove the cart over the bodies, the blood spilling even more over the road. Normally, the sight of that would make you almost want to vomit, but now it doesn’t bother you as much as a pile of horseshit did.

You hoped the O’Driscolls rotted in hell for what they did to you all those years ago.


	5. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You revisit Valentine on a small job, only to witness something that may as well change your outlook on a certain someone.

After that little ambush by the O’Driscolls, your project to build the bathing stalls was delayed. But with the help of some of the men in the gang you were able to build it within that same afternoon. And by some men, it was only Javier and Charles, the only men that helped. Micah was intentionally hovering around you to irritate you further, and it was not without a few remarks on you building something. Apparently, a woman building something with her own hands was unheard of. That was until you threw a hammer straight at his head; he luckily ducked in time or his head would have been featured as a trophy on some tree in camp.

Uncle of course just relaxed against a tree, barking orders at you, Javier and Charles. Charles would have decapitated the man were it not for you and Javier trying to restrain him. Keyword; trying. The man was like a bull on a mission, it was only when Dutch came out of his tent to stop the ruckus that Charles had calmed down. Uncle was sent to the back of the camp near the outer perimeter campfire to leave us be.

The rest of the men, except Kieran, had been huddling around Dutch the entire afternoon. It was odd to say the least, they looked like a bunch of scheming Klansmen sitting around a campfire and whispering conspiracies to each other, or that’s what you imagined them to be. While you, Javier and Charles were building the framework of the stalls, the women were doing their part with stitching together the curtains. Karen was the exception, occasionally getting up to help you fit something in place or shoo Uncle away whenever he waddled back to the same area.

To put it mildly, that afternoon was somewhat eventful. You had arranged to keep one stall strictly for women and the other for men, knowing damn well how men are in regards to cleanliness. Mary-Beth was thrilled as she had the same idea. And to avoid peeking; you allowed the women to carry a gun in there in case someone – Micah – were to peek in, one warning shot would be enough to send them running for the hills. You also pre-arranged for one person to bring a supply of four barrels of water every morning for the gang to take a bath. And that person was none other than John Marston, surprisingly he had volunteered for that task, but you were meaning to ask Uncle to do that, so he could at least get off his lazy ass once a day.

As the day came to an end, the people who were involved in the making of the stalls took a step back and admired the handy work. Sure, it could use some homey touches; but for a first try, it was not too shabby. It’s four walls were literally curtains but nailed into the framework, with only the front side acting as an actual curtain you can open or close. There was one full barrel of water in each stall with a smaller bucket in there to pour the water over your head. It wasn’t a luxurious bathing area, but it was still something to keep hygiene in check for this gang. From the smell of things, it wasn’t going too well.

It was the next morning, you had just had your bath in the new bathing stall, and to say the least, it was amazing to feel your skin be so clean and dirt-free. It made you happier and healthier and you smelled great. It was convenient to have it in the camp rather than travelling all the way to town once a week to have a bath in a place where other strangers have already used it. You knew you were somewhat of a clean freak, but you couldn’t care less.

“[Y/N], the bathing stall you built is a godsend! My hair feels so much softer now!” Mary-Beth chirped at you, holding your hands in hers in excitement. Her hair sure was much softer, it bounced in her step more than usual, “And your hair looks so much thicker!” she caressed your hair to which you chuckled at her, it was slightly wet but your hair looked amazing after the bath, not so greasy no more.

“See! This is why we built it Micah!” Mary-Beth turned to her side, and there he was, Micah Bell, cleaning his rifle at the table.

“Just think it’s a waste of time and space.”

“So are you, though.” you replied, earning a squinted glare from the man. Oh, how you loathed him, you wish you could just rip that dirty moustache right off his face. Mary-Beth giggled beside you.

“[Y/N]! I just remembered why I came to you! Strauss is looking for you.” Mary-Beth exclaimed.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “He’s looking for me? …Why?”

Mary-Beth just shrugged and went on her way towards her tent. You knew Strauss was somewhat the accountant of the camp, but needless to say he was a little creepy to you. He never talked to any of the camp members, always hunched over his ledger keeping account of money that was coming in and out of the camp. But what would he want with you?

Regardless, you made your way to the large cart full of medicine. It had been recently stocked up, you heard it was because of Arthur. Mainly Arthur or Dutch had a say on what was to be improved or built around camp. If you had known, you would have gone to Arthur for permission instead of Dutch. Dutch was nice, but he had a type of allure that sent red signals all over your brain, he was certainly manipulative. You found Arthur to be more sincere, grounded and less flamboyant than Dutch, you always found it easy to approach him.

“Ah, [Y/N] I was wondering when you would show up,” Strauss called out as you approached his makeshift desk in front of the cart, “And looking lavishly.” He added as he looked you up and down.

“Yeah, Mary-Beth said you needed me for somethin’.” You sighed as you stood over him in front of his desk.

“Yes, uh, I need you to give this in to the post office in Valentine for me,” he handed you a sealed blank envelop with just a small scribble of an address on it.

“What is it?” you took it, holding it against the sun rays to see what’s inside it.

“Y-you don’t need to know that.” Strauss stuttered, waving you off to put down the envelop, “I would have asked Herr Morgan but he is quite busy this morning.” He added, “Now please deliver that to the post office without any hassle.”

“Sure.” You placed the envelop in your brown satchel.

“[Y/N]!” you heard your name being screamed from behind you. As you turned, you saw an anxious Dutch hurrying to you, his quick steps kicking some dry dirt into the air in his trail, “I would like for you to come into my tent, we have some important things to discuss.”

“Herr Van Der Linde, can it wait after [Y/N] has done this one errand for me?” Strauss spoke out behind you. Dutch glanced at the Austrian then back at you.

“Alright,” Dutch held your gaze, “But as soon as you come back, meet me in my tent. This cannot wait.”

You nodded at the dark-haired leader, “Sure, Dutch.”

“Good girl.” He gently patted your shoulder before retreating into his tent again.

You walked through the camp, readying yourself for the trip to town. Anything could happen, especially after the O’Driscolls attacked you and Arthur, you couldn’t take a chance no more. They were like pests, everywhere and nowhere at once.

Karen walked up to you, a sly grin on her face, “I see you’re popular this mornin’.”

“I wouldn’t know why Karen.” You shrugged, picking up a can of beans and placing it inside your satchel.

“Where you goin? And can I come with you?”

You stood straight in front of her, furrowing your eyebrows at her, “I’m going to Valentine to deliver some mail for Strauss, and, sure.” You grinned at her.

She laughed, giving you a small side hug then getting ready and practically sprinting towards the stables. You followed right behind her as she brought to you an unknown brown horse with a black mane.

“Arthur left this beauty for you, he said ‘I promised `er a horse so she gon` get a horse’.” You chuckled at her imitation of Arthur whilst gently caressing the horse, she was a beauty alright, “How sweet of him to get you a brand new horse.” Karen added, winking at you as she turned around, hoisting herself onto her horse.

“It don’t mean nothin’.” You pulled on the reins of the horse, guiding out of the stables then climbing onto the saddle that Arthur had probably bought as well.

Karen led you out of the camp area, “Don’t say that in front of him, it’ll break his heart.” She gasped

You whipped the horse into a fast gallop, matching the speed of Karen’s, “Come on, let’s just get there.”

 

* * *

 

Shivers went down your spine as your horse trotted into Valentine. The first time you stepped foot into this town, it was a nightmare, like some kind of curse befalls any stranger who passes by here. You half-expected someone to recognize you after that gun fight, but you were as stranger to them as the first time you came into town, even though you were only visiting the train station, which was at the edge of town.

You payed off a fee for the station clerk to mail the letter Strauss had given you, and you also received mail for some other recipients in the camp. It was mailed to a ‘Billy Bob’, whoever that was. You gave a confused look to Karen.

“I’ll tell ya later.” she waved you off.

You watched as the station clerk had went behind the desk to place the mail in a box to be sent to the address. To the side of you Karen had caught a glimpse of an interesting event occurring at the other side of the station.

“Well, would you look at that. Not-so-Romeo and Juliet.” Karen muttered.

You glanced at Karen then trailed her gaze to an odd looking couple and their son. The man and boy had their backs faced towards you, but you could clearly see the woman’s face. Upon further inspection as they had turned slightly in you and Karen’s direction, you realized it was none other than Arthur with a rather beautiful woman.

Karen ducked you behind the wall before he could see the both of you.

“Oh, Arthur. Thank you, thank you.” You heard the soft voice of the woman echo to your ears. 

You peeked around the wall and grimaced at what you saw. Karen peeked around above you, almost crushing you with her weight.

“It’s good to see you, Mary.” Arthur took the suitcase from the woman instead of shaking her hand. Mary, however didn’t seem fazed by it, only noticing that small gesture for a second before rushing towards the train platform with a younger boy by her side. Those two were happy, but as for Arthur, this was the first time you’ve really seen him so down compared to the more elated version of him back at camp. There was something going on between those two, no doubt.

Karen growled behind you, “I do not like that woman.” 

You looked at her, “Why?”

Karen grabbed your hand instead of answering you, taking you towards the train platform. You slightly resisted against her, “I don’t think it’s any of our business—”

“Other folks business _is_ my business.” Karen stopped behind a large supply box at the further end of the platform, at an earshot distance away from Arthur and Mary, “That woman shattered his heart into pieces, left him in the cold and then she has the guts to call him back to do her dirty job. I _read_ that letter.” Karen blabbered on as she overlooked the couple.

You had no idea what she was talking about, it was all too much out of context for you to understand. You knew there was more to their story than what Karen was summarizing, you tried to stay out of it, but you were slightly intrigued by the situation. And so, you had also found yourself spying around with Karen like a pair of amateurs on a fellow outlaw and his ex-lady.

You saw Mary climb onto the train, a desolate look on her face as she looked towards her former lover, she stuttered for a while before a resolution came from her mouth “You’ll never change, I know that.”

You heard Karen curse beside you. You furrowed your brows at that statement, confused as to why she would say that. Then again, she knew Arthur for much longer than you. However, it was still a harsh thing to say to someone like Arthur, a man who’s been nothing but kind to you since the time you stepped foot in the camp. He never treated you lower, he never emphasized on your skin tone like people have always done throughout your life, he’s never underestimated you for being a woman, he’s always seen you as an equal. In your eyes, he’s the kindest man you’ve ever come across your entire life. Sure, his moods only always moved between being a grumpy grandpa to being a downright sarcastic bastard, but you never saw any ill intent in his eyes.

“That man has got to let go of her.” Karen spoke up beside you, it finally dawned on you that the two of you were still hiding behind a large crate, watching Arthur as he watched the train slowly leave the station, “Ain’t you gonna say nothin?” Karen turned around to you.

“What do you want me to say? I’ve just been here a day, I’m _tryin’_ not to involve in any drama.” Karen stared at you for a good few seconds before scoffing at you in mockery.

“What—”

“With the way you’re canoodling ‘round Dutch, missy, I don’t think you’ve got a choice in that matter.”

Your eye slightly twitched at that word, “Canoodling would not be the word I would use for that.”

“Then what word would you use instead?”

You glanced down at her, “It’s just a little harmless flirtin’.”

“Aha! So you admit!” Karen smirked at you.

“Admit what?”

“That you like the big man. I mean, I can understand it in a way, is it the power thing that does it for you?”

You tilted your head to the side, genuinely confused by her question, “What are you talkin’ about? There is nothin’ goin on between me and Dutch.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

“I’m serious.”

You sighed, ignoring her tiny victory in the conversation, “What are we doing here anyway?” You were suddenly aware of your surroundings. Your eyes lazily did a full scan before it landed on a very familiar pair of boots standing behind you. Your eyes traveled up from the boots, to the tucked pants, to the familiar large hands resting lazily on the belt and finally towards the face of someone who looked just about to throttle you or Karen. Arthur’s huge figure loomed over you, a very unimpressed scowl on his face.

“I dunno, Arthur probably—oh…shit.” Karen was cut short as she had turned towards the direction you were looking at.

The two of you slowly stood up from the previous crouching position.

“What’re you two doing here?” Arthur spoke in a low voice that honestly terrified you.

Before Karen had the chance to even think of a response, you spoke up, “We were just sendin’ some mail for Strauss.” You gave him a small innocent smile.

Arthur’s eyes flickered towards you, “Is that so? Then why were you two crouching behind what-” Arthur side-stepped from the two of you to take a glance at the crate behind, “-a crate full of pig feed?” a restrained laugh left him when he read the contents of the box.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, glaring at Karen as she went on to scratch her head, “But, how’d you hear us from that far away?” she asked.

“Anyone in a 10-mile radius can hear the two of you’s conversation.” He deadpanned, “Now, answer me as to what the both of you were doin’ spyin’ on me?”

“We weren’t spyin’!” Karen exclaimed.

“Ah, horseshit Karen.” Arthur waved her off.

“We weren’t! I swear, we just stumbled upon ya’! But hey, you believe what you want to believe, old man.”

Arthur peered at the two of you for a few seconds before turning around, making his way towards the horse stables, “I ain’t got time for this.” He grumbled under his breath.

Karen followed him out of the train station, with you following closely behind Karen.

Despite Arthur seeming relatively composed, you could still sense he wasn’t in the best of moods considering what had happened, and to his dismay finding out that he was being eavesdropped on during what must’ve been a very emotional moment for him.

“You gotta loosen up a lil’, one of these days you might just pop one of them big ol’ veins that’s throbbin’ on your forehead.” Karen chuckled whilst coming upon the horse stables with Arthur.

“Yeah, yeah.” Arthur drawled, climbing onto his horse. From where Arthur sat, he saw you approach your horse with the amount of affection and care only a mother would show her child.

“Hey there, girl~” you cooed to the horse, to which in response, the horse neighed and nuzzled to the side of your face.

“How’s the horse?” you heard Arthur’s voice behind you, felt his gaze lingering on your form.

You caressed the horse as it munched on some hay, “She’s a _darling_ ; my previous horse was a pain in the ass, it was more of a stubborn mule than anything else. Still can’t believe it took off on me.”

“Well, it was spooked by all the noise. Can’t blame it.” Arthur pulled on the reigns of his horse, guiding it out of the stable area, “You take good care of that horse now.”

 “Sure will.” you turned to Arthur, who had been watching you and the horse interact. There was a small smile tugging on his lips, barely noticeable, but it was there, “Thank you, Arthur.” You finally said.

Arthur nodded in your direction, “I’ll see you two back at camp.” He lazily kicked the horse into a gallop and rode out of the town in an instant. You could easily tell he was bothered by all this, despite the smile. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, even though it wasn’t your idea to spy into his personal life in the first place.

You glanced at Karen on her horse, she just shrugged and pulled her horse away from the stables. This didn’t bother her as much as it did for you, it led you to wonder if you were just being too sensitive about the whole issue.

“He’ll get over it, don’t you worry.” Karen reassured you as you climbed your horse.

The two of you rode out of the town at a faster pace than you did entering the town. As the buildings of the town, faces of the townsfolk and the smell of manure disappeared, your mind started to wander aimlessly. Who was that woman? Mary was her name. A pretty face from Arthur’s past, the way she spoke to him, pain dripping from her words. The way he looked at her, lost dreams revealing itself upon his face. A deep history of tragedy laid between them, and the words she spoke was venom disguised as milk. ‘You’ll never change’ she said, but change is present everywhere, every second of every day. From the duty of a work ant to the clouds flying above, everything is changing. Thoughts change, people change, the future changes at every decision we make. The only thing unaffected by change; is the past. Unwavering, unafflicted, fixed in place.

Yet it’s the driving force behind change. Everyone is worried about changing the past when in reality, it is immovable, everlasting, eternal. It is both a gift and a curse, it can help you and break you at once.

But, change is inevitable.

“Who exactly was that woman?” you spoke up after what felt seconds gone by.

Karen sighed, “Mary Linton, she’s a woman Arthur used to be in love with, or still is, can’t know for sure. This was way before I joined the gang, heard the stories from Abigail and Miss Grimshaw. The two despise her, that’s for damn sure. Dunno how they met but, all I know is that those two were either not made for each other, or they just belonged to two whole different worlds. You see, she’s the civilised type, and Arthur is, well, an outlaw. Family didn’t like her hangin’ ‘round a bunch of outlaws, so she left the gang and Arthur, and went off to marry some fool with a stick up his ass.”

Karen’s words lingered in your mind, it was a classic tale of forbidden love. Forces keeping them apart.

“Can’t blame her though, after Annabelle and Bessie died; figured if you’re in love with an outlaw, you’ll end up dead or worse. However, in Mary’s case, I feel like she’s just using Arthur by now. I doubt she even loves him still.” Karen continued.

“Annabelle and Bessie?”

Karen groaned, “I’ll tell ya about them, _later_. Come to think of it, this gang sure has had a lot of lovers who ended up dead.” She turned to you with a look of warning, “Now don’t you be getting’ into Dutch’s pants—”

“Oh my god, Karen, I ain’t gonna fool around with him!”

Karen chirped with laughter, “I’m just sayin!”

You tightened your grip around the reigns of your horse as the two of you travelled the lonely road back to camp. As you watched Karen ride in front, you smiled. You couldn’t remember the last time you had fun like this, it’s been a long road of misery and death for you. You lived life fast paced, never sticking in one place for more than a day, it felt like a breath of fresh air to just settle and relax.

The infamous Van Der Linde gang, they were an unusual bunch. You wouldn’t even call them a gang, the way they treated each other, you’ve never seen that kind of interaction before. You’ve had your fair share of run-ins with other outlaw gangs, and it never ended well. But these people, though they were strangers in principle, they were together like a family. But you were sure they came this far east while evading the law. The outlaws you usually came across were from the West, and this gang was no different. But why did they stand out to you so much?

You pondered about your future with this gang, hell, you didn’t even know if you were a part of them yet. You figured you had to earn your keep to stay, and to gain trust. Nothing in this world has a free ticket, its always earned.

 

* * *

 

“Dutch?”

“Come inside, [Y/N].”

You pulled aside the tent curtain and walked into Dutch’s tent. You were suddenly met with a spicy and sweet aroma of a burning cigar. Dutch was seated leisurely atop his bed with a book in his lap, he placed the book beside him upon your arrival, a smile appearing on his face. You observed his tent. It was cosy to say the least, a little extravagant but it left you feeling warm. The man had exceptional taste for an outlaw from the West.

You expected him to have a larger bed, considering he was a man of high-end taste. But the soft bear rug beneath your feet and wolf skin spread over a couple of barrels next to the bed was enough to show the luxury of the tent. The tent had its charm, and you almost felt like collapsing onto the bear rug, opposed to the thin sleeping bed you sleep on every night.

You met Dutch’s gaze upon you, “Took you long enough.” He said, standing up, making his way over to the other end of the tent which was decorated with various maps and wanted posters. He was planning.

“I got side-tracked.”

He took a swig of his cigar, blowing the smoke out before turning to face you, “Next time, don’t.” his voice was chipper, but something was off. After those words were uttered, an uncomfortable tension filled the atmosphere of the tent. The gaze he held on you was heavy, like a bag of rocks weighing down on your shoulders.

You took a deep breath before you decided to say something, “What was it that you needed to discuss with me?”

“How are you adjusting here?”

You folded your arms across your chest, “I’m adjusting well, but, I haven’t had the chance to meet everyone yet.”

He smiled against the cigar, “You will, don’t worry.” He blew out more smoke into the small area of the tent, the heavy air filled your lungs, making you slightly light-headed, “Sit, why don’t you?” Dutch gestured towards his cot.

Dutch trailed his eyes on you as you hesitantly took a seat on the cot. He soon brought out a newspaper from the side, handing it to you in haste, “Do you recognize this man?”

You took the newspaper and read the bold sized headline at the top,

‘ ** _MILLIONARE TYCOON LEVITICUS CORNWALL BLAMES A GANG OF OUTLAWS FOR THE ROBBING OF HIS TRAIN’_**

Your eyes were drawn to the blurry picture of the mentioned billionaire right under the newspaper headline. You remember now, all those years back, you had robbed Cornwall’s private manor. The memories are fuzzy, but you remember your heart racing heavy against your rib-cage as your feet stomped against the wet mud caused by the late December rain. You remember Cornwall’s private army running after you, all the way from Strawberry to Blackwater, if it hadn’t been for your beloved horse, you would have been dead.

“Yes.” You simply muttered, looking through the contents of the article.

“You stole from him.”

You glanced up from the newspaper to the man in front of you, “I did.”

Dutch placed his cigar to the side whilst bringing out a chair, placing it in front of you. He let out a drawn-out sigh when he finally took a seat on the creaky wooden chair, “Mind tellin’ me how much you stole from him?” he leaned forward towards you, his elbows supporting atop his knees.

It was your turn to sigh now, you pursed your lips together trying to remember the details of that eventful night. You smiled at Dutch, the tally of the score you robbed that night was something you always bragged about throughout your adventures.

“Let’s just say it was enough to purchase the entire Cuban army.”

Dutch’s eyes widened. He leaned back in his chair, staring at you for a long time, trying to decipher you.

“What did you steal?”

You hummed as the details started coming back to you, “Cash stacks mostly, precious jewels, personal possessions of Mr Cornwall and bonds.” You scoffed, “Poor guy was 50 million in debt with the government. Guess I made life real difficult for him later on.”

“And you were 17?” you nodded to his question; Dutch raised an eyebrow at you, and you knew exactly what was going through his head, “There is no way you could pull that off on your own. Cornwall’s manor must’ve had 20-30 guards patrolling the perimeter. It wouldn’t be possible for a 17 year old kid to just sneak in.”

This time, you leaned back on the bed, supporting yourself by placing your hands to the side of you. With a click of your tongue, “You’re right. But I didn’t sneak in, I walked in.” you crossed your legs, Dutch’s gaze flickered towards your legs for a second before averting to meet your eyes again, “All I needed was a distraction, and someone from the inside to make sure there were no hassles in with meeting him. To Cornwall, I was just a little innocent mare waiting to be _disciplined_.”

Dutch shifted in his seat uncomfortably, “You mean you—”

“Almost. He’s an old man, he passed out when he…you know.” You took a deep breath, it was certainly a traumatic experience. You felt disgusted even thinking about it, “Nevertheless, once he was out cold, I robbed him clean.”

“How did you get the money out of there?”

“I had accomplices.”

He knitted his eyebrows together at you, “Accomplices.”

You gave him a nod, “I ran with a gang at that time, a group of juvenile delinquents more like it. Orphans, run-aways, petty thieves, that sorta thing. Our gang leader was a man named Christopher Miles, a quirky English fellow. He took me in when I had attempted to pickpocket him, I guess he had other plans for me. He was always the brains of every operation or job that we did, just like this one.” You glanced down at your lap, smiling, “I learnt a lot from that man.”

“I can tell.” Dutch brought another cigar from inside his coat, it seemed this man always had an unending supply of cigars around him, “So this Christopher Miles, any chance you know where he is?” he placed the cigar against his lips, lighting one end of it so casually.

You squinted your eyes at Dutch, “No, I had to flee when I found out Cornwall’s men were tracking me.” You averted your gaze to the side, where the wolf pelts laid, “I must have brought them to your doorstep, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He shook his cigar to the side, “Now, I assume you already know by now we are the gang that robbed Cornwall’s train.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle a little, “Yes, that much is very obvious.”

Dutch glared at you for a split-second before something playful twinkled in his eyes, “And as you have mentioned, you’ve had your fair share of run-ins with Leviticus Cornwall, enough to know a little about his weaknesses.” You nodded to his words, “How would like to have a chance at safe-guarding your place in this gang?”

You leaned off your hands, sitting straight this time. You thought you were already a part of the gang, “What do you mean?”

“This gang, it functions more like a family than anything else; except all the decisions are either approved by me or Hosea. Now, you have my utmost approval, you’ve given me quite the surprise the small amount of time you had stayed here. However, you need the trust of the gang. I’m sure that won’t be difficult for you, considering you have already charmed some of them.”

“So what are you proposing, Mr Van Der Linde?”

A smirk showed upon his features. With a groan, he stood up. You noticed he seemed to do that a lot, if it was either out of mere exhaustion or his aging self. Possibly, both.

Dutch approached the wall of maps that had previously caught your interest once you stepped inside the tent, he placed his one hand on his hip while his other hand still held onto the large cigar intertwined in his fingers.

“Let’s see if you can make any sense of this.”

You stood up from the bed, making your way to stand next to Dutch in front of the maps. You observed the well elaborated planning that was seeming to go on. There were scribbles written all over, some that made sense and some that were completely nonsensical. You sensed Dutch tried to make it seem elaborate but once you read in between the lines, it did not make for a bigger picture. 

“I don’t think even you can make any sense of this, Dutch.”

A hearty chuckle left Dutch as he held the cigar close to his lips, “This is just a preliminary vision.”

“Good. I was gettin’ worried.” You sighed, tracing the various contusions of lines jotted about the papers.

“You know, Dutch; I’ve robbed, kidnapped, sometimes even inadvertently killed some people along the way. And do you know why I never got caught?” Dutch glanced at you, “I never gave them breadcrumbs to follow.”

“What do you have in mind, then?”

You looked to the maps again, pressing your lips into a thin line you tried to decipher the main motivation of his plan, “Well, the way I see it, there’s three ways to do things. The good way, the bad way,” you grazed your fingers against the map, concentrating around a small area the West of Strawberry,

“…and the way that I do it.”

 

* * *

 

There was an eerie silence. The sound of footsteps, hushed whispers and clutter of paper was the only sound filling the air of the building this day. A man was anxiously waiting as he fidgeted on a chair in the waiting room, the receptionist eyed him once, twice, but making no indication of a closer time where he could meet the person he had to meet that day. The man’s fidgeting was getting worse until he reached into his pocket, bringing out a medication that was prescribed by his doctor, and swallowed it dry. His nerves had suddenly become calm upon taking the small white tablet, if it were the medicine or his mind playing tricks on him, he didn’t know., The medication worked suspiciously fast.

The man took a deep breath, the confidence in him increasing every minute he sat in the heavy, hot atmosphere of the waiting room.

The receptionist made eye contact with him, except this time, there was a knowing look on her face, “The director will see you now.”

The man sat up from his seat, following the directions the receptionist showed him. He found himself standing in front of a pair of large mahogany double doors. He knocked once, twice, until an aged voice called out from the other side. The man pushed the large doors, it was heavier than he had calculated. And his calculations were always right.

When he entered the room, the first thing any normal person would notice is the large man in a decent black suit, overlooking some papers on his large dark oakwood desk. But he noticed the small insignia the director held in his heavy fingers, playing around with it like it was given to him as a present for his birthday, a triumphant smile on the director’s face.

“Agent, take a seat.” The edges of his lips curled upwards, if it were anyone else, they would have been terrified.

The agent slowly took a seat on one of the large, cushiony sofas placed in front of the desk, a weary sigh leaving the man as he relaxed into the material. However, his mind was still alert for what was yet to be said.

“Do you know why you’re here?” the director leaned forward, aiming to intimidate the agent.

“No sir.” the agent simply replied.

The director pulled out a file, the agents file, in front of him. He flipped through the file, all his records, achievements and badges of honor were stated in those files.

“You are our top agent in the agency. I’m proud to say that you deserve all the recognition that you have gotten.” The agent nodded to the man’s words. What was going to be a result to this meeting? He hoped it was a promotion, “That is why I think you are the perfect man to take up this case.”

Now, another file was thrown onto the table, except this one was significantly thinner. The director motioned for him to look through it’s contents. The agent picked up the file, flipping through he found nothing but wanted posters of various outlaws. This came as no surprise; the agency was designed to hunt down criminals at any cost. But he was hoping for a little raise in money or a promotion after all his years of work. He guessed that since he was good at finding criminals, the higher-ups thought best to keep him in that same position. Considering the other agents were doing a piss poor job on their respective cases.

“This gang that you’re looking at, has been escaping the law rather precariously for _years_. They have looted, murdered, kidnapped, and lord knows what else. They’re main target has been small town banks, or occasionally, city banks. But, recently, they attempted to rob a ferry, only for the local lawmen to corner them and they had narrowly escaped. The money they had stolen is either lost, hidden, or within their possession as we speak.”

The agent sat, stoic, as he flipped through each wanted poster. He had heard of the gang, all the way back in Chicago on one of his earlier cases. However, at the time he was working on another larger case than some gang of outlaws and misfits.

“Our client,” the director started, the agent furrowed his eyebrows, it was always rare to have a client in this line of work, “…he is paying large sums of money for us to track down this gang, especially the leader of said gang.”

As if in cue, the next page the agent flipped towards was the leader of the gang himself, “Dutch Van Der Linde,” the director spoke, “...idealistic, anarchic, charismatic, well‐read, well‐ lived, _well-dressed._ ” The director seethed, “An outlaw who thinks himself big, thinks himself above all others while he steals and murders in cold blood. These outlaws…they’re all the same.”

The agent nodded simply to his words, not paying any mind to the emotional words that spewed from the director’s mouth as he studied the contents of the file. After all; those words came from a place of rage and anger, as his wife was murdered by an outlaw, or maybe it was a random onlooker. No one could tell now-a-days, that’s just the way it was. Wolves in sheep clothing, everywhere.

“The gang was last seen in the mountains of Ambarino. Though, you are to travel down to Blackwater, start your investigation there, then make your way up to Ambarino, inquire the surrounding small towns. See if you can find a pattern that the other agents were unable to see.”

“Will do.” The agent went to get up, taking the file of wanted posters with him, “I’ll get right to it.” The agent started to head for the office door, only to be stopped short as the director once again called him out.

“Also, before you leave, you will be working with another agent for this one. I know you like to work alone, but this is not Chicago, Boston or New York. It is a wild and dangerous country down there, and this agent is known to be rather…persuasive in his techniques.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” The agent responded.

 “I hope you do. Safe travels, Agent Milton.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I got a little side-tracked with college and....game of thrones....


End file.
